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GRANTS 



ANNUAL CELEBRATION 






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BALTIMORE 

The Sun Book and Job Printing Establishment. 

1868. 



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The Committee exceedingly regret that this publication has been so long delayed. 
Owing to unayoidable circumstances connected with Mr. Dimitry's change of resi- 
dence from Brooklyn, N, Y., to New Orleans, La., they were unable to procure a 
copy of his oration until more than six months after its delivery. 



W. A. HAMMOND, 
D. C. LYLES. 



Georgetown College, February 10, 1868. 



CONTENTS. 



1. — Inception of the Celebration. 

2. — History of Georgetown College. 

3. — Future Celebrations. 

4. — The Photographic Album. 

5. — Oration. 

6.— Poem. 

7. — Memoir of Rev. George Fenwick, S. J. 

8. — Mirror's Account of the Celebration. 

9.— Bill of Fare. 
10.— Mr. C. B. Kenney's Poem. 
11. — Mr. Barber's Letter. 
12. — List of Members of the Society. 



GRAND ANNUAL CELEBRATION 



OP THE 



ilodemic Society of Georgetown College, 

HEL(j) JULY m, imv. 



The Philodemic Society of Georgetown College was founded 
in the year 1830, by Rev. James Ryder, then Vice-President of 
the College and Professor of Rhetoric. It has for its object 
^'the cultivation of Eloquence, the promotion of Knowledge, 
and the preservation of Liberty." For many years its grand 
annual meetings were held on the day of the College Com- 
mencement, after the regular Commencement exercises had 
been concluded ; but it having been found that the other re- 
quirements of the day greatly interfered with its proper cele- 
bration, the meeting was transferred to January ITth, the 
anniversary of the foundation of the Society. After several 
years experience of this, however, it was decided to fix the 
celebration on the day preceding the annual Commencement of 
the College, thus allowing to the distant members the conve- 
nience of attending both the meeting and the commencement 
in one visit, and yet preserving to the Society its own particu- 
lar day. This arrangement was agreed on at the meeting held 
January 17th, 186T, and at the same time it was determined 
to give a distinctiveness to the next celebration, by holding a 
grand reunion of all the members of the Society — resident, non- 
resident and honorary — and inviting thereto all the Alumni of 
the College. The President of the College, Rev. Fr. Maguire, 
and the members of the Faculty, kindly and cheerfully offered 



6 

their assistance and co-operation, and a committee was ap- 
pointed by the Society, who issued the following invitation: 

Georgetown College, D. C, April 10, 1867. 
Dear Sir : 

The Faculty of Georgetown College, in connection with the Philodemic Society, 
wishing to renew the ties of association which once bound to the College and the 
Society their many children now scattered throughout the land, have decided on a 
grand Reunion of the Philodemic Society, to be held at the College on the 2d day 
of July next, at 10^- o'clock A. M., on which occasion, in addition to other exer- 
cises, a Poem will be delivered by George H. Miles, Esq., of Maryland, and an 
Oration by Richard T. Merrick, Esq., of Washington City. 

To that Reunion the Alumni of the College, and the members of the Philodemic 
Society, both non-resident and honorary, are cordially invited, and the Faculty 
hope that all the children of Alma Mater who can possibly do so, will respond to 
this appeal and partake of her hospitality. 

To you, sir, as one of that number, this invitation is hereby personally extended, 
in the confident expectation of acceptance; but as, owing to time and changes, the 
residences of many others who ought to be present are now unknown, your assist- 
ance in the dissemination of intelligence of this Reunion is heartily solicited . Please, 
therefore, send the enclosed copies of this circular to such persons as you may think 
likely to be of the class mentioned, and also, as far as you can, by means of the 
newspapers in your neighborhood, or any other mode you may think feasible, com- 
municate the invitation to those entitled to receive it, and direct public attention 
and favor to the celebration. 

One of the features connected with this Reunion is the collection of material per- 
taining to the history of the Philodemic Society. To promote this end, you are 
requested to bring with you your /(Aoto^rapA, "vignette size," endorsed with your 
autograph, and stating the date and place of your birth, your present residence and 
occupation, date when the photograph was taken, and, if a former student of the 
College, the dates of your entering and leaving the institution. It is designed to 
preserve these among the archives of the Society. Should it so happen that you 
will not be able to attend the Celebration, please send the photograph endorsed as 
above described, as your representative, together with a toast or sentiment, which 
will be read at the Celebration Festival. 

As no effort on the part of the Faculty and the resident members of the Society 
will be spared to make this Reunion an interesting occasion, it is hoped all the 
children of Alma Mater will co-operate by their exertions and presence. 

Very respectfully, your obedient servants. 

Rev. B. a. MAGUIRE, .S-. ./., 

President of Georgetown College, J). C. 

Rev. JAMES CLARK, .S". J.. 

Premlent of the Philodemic Socieftj. 
Charles W. Hoffman, ^ 
Arthir Lke, [- Committei- of Inritatinn. 

CUARLKS S. AliKLL; ) 



This invitation was sent by mail to every one of the mem- 
bers of the Society and the Alumni whose addresses could be 
found. They extended not only throughout the United States, 
from Maine to California, but to Canada, the West India 
Islands and South America, Mexico having been excluded only 
from the want of mail facilities in that country. A number of 
gentlemen residing in various prominent localities kindly co- 
operated in the dissemination of the invitation to those whose 
residences were unknown to the committee, and the result of 
the united efforts for the promotion of the celebration will be 
found in the following pages. 



J^ BRIEF SKETCH 

OF THE 



No one whose privilege it has ever been to visit Georgetown 
College will need the aid of any pen to recall the unrivalled 
view which is presented at that favored spot. The hill on 
which it stands is the last of the range inclosing the amphi- 
theatre selected by the Father of his Country as the site of its 
capita], and the noble Potomac rolls immediately below. Up 
to this point the river is seen winding through the narrow 
limits of a rock-bound channel; but here it widens and encir- 
cles the beautiful Analostan, and then, swollen by the accession 
of the waters of the Anacosta, a mighty flood, it sweeps on to 
the sea. In the rear of the College the neighboring hills rise 
to a still greater elevation, offering to the view, first, the em- 
bowered College walk and the vine-clad ascent to the Observa- 
tory, and then, beyond, the lofty oaks which lift their tops 
almost to mountain height. Here we behold the solitude and 
romantic wildness of the dense forest, whilst but a few steps in 
front how changed is the scene ! There lies the nation's capital, 
with its sister cities, teeming with the bustle of busy life; their 
harbors crowded with shipping, their wharves loaded with 
merchandize, and their streets thronged with hurried crowds, 
whilst from the midst of their piles of massive brick extend 
aloft those noble specimens of architectural skill, the public 
buildings, which not old Greece herself surpassed in elegance 
and grandeur. Beyond these, in the dim distance, the blue 
hills of Maryland and Virginia bound the scene. European 
taste has not hesitated to compare this view to the far-famed 
Bay of Naples, and it is at once the wonder and delight of every 
2 



10 

visitor. But especially is it embalmed in the memory of those 
who at any time have enjoyed the privilege of a residence within 
the College ; and to such, particularly, it is hoped the following 
brief history of the institution will not prove uninteresting. 

Shortly after the close of the American Revolution, the idea 
of establishing a college in Maryland, then the chief seat of the 
Catholic religion in this country, presented itself to the Rev. 
John Carroll, afterwards first Archbishop of Baltimore. In 
choosing a location for it, his good taste led him to select the 
eminence immediately west of the town of Georgetown, on the 
" Potowmac River," though of course he did not then know 
that the propriety of his judgment was so soon to be endorsed 
by the establishment of the capital of the country in its imme- 
diate vicinity. Although greatly embarrassed by want of 
means, and still more by the difficulty of procuring professors 
competent to assist in his plans, he succeeded in the year 1'789 
in putting up the first house, now the old central building in 
the south row. The schools were first opened about two years 
thereafter. It was first intended by Archbishop Carroll to 
establish his diocesan Theological Seminary in connection with 
the College, but this design was subsequently changed by the 
founding of St. Mary's College and Seminary in Baltimore city. 
The first President of Georgetown College was Rev. Robert 
Plunkett, who assumed the position about the end of October, 
1791. On the old records we find the name of William Gaston. 
of Newberne^ North Carolina, afterwards the celebrated Judge 
Gaston, entered as the first student, on November 4th of the 
same year. The school rapidly grew into favor, especially 
among the old families of Maryland, and it would appear from 
the course of study adopted, that thus early great attention was 
given to the classic languages. It was very soon found that 
the first building would be wholly inadequate to the wants of 
the institution, and preparations were made for the erection of 
the spacious North Building, a great undertaking at that day. 
It at first progressed rapidly, but though partially fitted for 
occupation, owing to various embarrassments it was not finish- 
ed until some years thereafter. President Plunkett was fol- 
lowed by Rev. Robert Molyneux, under whose gentle sway the 



11 

College continued to increase in prosperity. To him succeeded, 
in 1*796, Rev. William V. Dubourg, afterwards Bishop of New 
Orleans, and finally Archbishop of Besangon, in France, and 
founder of ^'The Association for the Propagation of the Faith." 
Mr. Dubourg presided over the College for three years, and 
after him, in 1799, the chair was filled by Rev. Leonard Neale, 
subsequently the second Archbishop of Baltimore. Hitherto 
the College had been rather a preparatory school, but under 
the presidency of Fr. Neale, the complete college course was 
arranged, and students passed regularly through the belles- 
lettres to the class of Philosophy. This improvement took 
place in consequence of the College passing under the direction 
of the Society of Jesus, which was effected early in the year 
1806, that body introducing the method and course of study 
peculiar to their order. Fr. Neale filled the office for seven 
years, until 1806, when came, for a second time, Rev. Robert 
Molyneux, who was succeeded, in 1808, by Rev. William Mat- 
thews, the ^'Father Matthews" of St. Patrick's Church, Wash- 
ington city. He had formerly been a professor in the College, 
and it was his pleasure in after days to tell how, when the 
grounds of the small Mother House were surrounded by a white 
paling, a rider well stricken in years, but of noble and military 
bearing, stopped his horse at the little gate and hitched him to 
the fence, and Fr. Matthews had the pleasure of receiving 
General George Washington at Georgetown College. It seems 
that up to this time the presiding officer did not always reside 
at the College, but during Fr. Matthews' term it was fixed that 
there should be the President's home. It has not yet been 
mentioned that in early days, owing to want of room, the stu- 
dents did not board at the College^ but found accommodations 
at the hotels and with families in the town. But about the 
year 1808 the North Building was finally completed, and that 
was arranged for the reception of boarders. It was built after 
the model of a chateau in France, and some time after its erec- 
tion, the walls having been thought to be not sufficiently solid, 
the two towers were added, thus enhancing both its appearance 
and its stability. Rev. Francis Neale was the successor of Fr. 
Matthews, his relative and fellow student, and following him, 



12 

in 1812, came Rev. John Grassi, whose presidency witnessed 
the capture of Washington by the British, and the destruction 
of the public buildings. On May 1st, in the year 1815, 
'^Georgetown College" was chartered by the Congress of the 
United States, being raised to the rank of a University, and em- 
powered to confer degrees in any of the faculties. As if invigo- 
rated by this '^bill of rights/' the institution increased greatly 
in prosperity. The successor of Fr. Grassi, in 1817, was Rev. 
Benedict Fenwick, afterwards Bishop of Boston. Bishop Fen- 
wick's term was but a short one, since he gave place in 1818 
to Rev. Anthony Kohlmann, who also held the post for but a 
brief period_, having yielded in 1820 to Rev. Enoch Fenwick, 
brother of the bishop. Fr. Enoch continued until 1825. 
Then came for two years Rev. Stephen L. Dubuisson, and in 
1827 Rev. William Feiner, who died in office in 1829. The 
next incumbent. Rev. John W. Beschter, occupied the chair 
for only five months. 

About this time a number of American youths, who had been 
sent over to Italy from Georgetown, to perfect their literary 
culture, returned and assumed various positions under their 
Alma Mater, and the new life infused into the College by their 
energy and ability was soon visible in every department. 
Among them were Fathers Mulledy, Ryder, George Fenwick, 
Young and McSherry — names familiar to every old student of 
Georgetown. Rev. George Fenwick, as prefect of studies, intro- 
duced order and efficiency into the entire course of instruction, 
and to him is chiefly owing the present status of the ''Ratio 
Studiorum." In this he was greatly assisted by Rev. James 
Ryder, who, whilst Vice President of the College, interested 
himself especially in promoting the study of Elocution, and to 
that end founded, on January 17th, 1830, the Philodemic 
Society. On the 14th of September, 1829, Rev. Thomas Mul- 
ledy, a native of Virginia, was announced as President of the 
College. He, with the aid of his able coadjutors, raised the 
institution to a point of eminence which soon won for it largely 
increased patronage, especially from his native state. In addi- 
tion to his learning and executive ability, he was noted for his 
hospitality and general popularity, and by a liberal exercise of 



13 

these qualities among the great men of the country who visited 
the capital, he gained for the College a national reputation. 
The increase in the number of students necessitated the en- 
largement of the College buildings, and in 1831 Fr. Mulledy 
commenced the erection of the large western wing of the south 
row. It was finished in 1833, and in July of that year the 
Commencement was held for the first time in the new Study 
Hall. Previously the Annual Exhibitions had taken place in 
the old Trinity Church of Georgetown. In connection with the 
new building the western half of the present Infirmary Avas 
also erected. The grounds around the College, including the 
famous "College Walks," were greatly improved. These walks 
had been first laid out about the year 1826, by Brother West, 
who, owning part of the land over which they extend, attached 
himself to the Society, and interested himself in the improve- 
ment of the ground. It was only, however, by additions and 
improvements made at various subsequent times, that they at- 
tained that beauty which now renders them so attractive. After 
a long and efiicient encumbency of eight years, Fr. Mulledy 
was succeeded in 1837 by Kev. William McSherry, who had 
been the first Provincial of the Society of Jesus in Maryland. 
He was in delicate health during his entire presidency, and 
finally died whilst holding that position. The Vice President, 
Eev. Joseph Lopez, ex-chaplain of the Emperor Iturbide, then 
acted as regent for four months. 

On May l&t^ 1840, Rev. James Ryder was called to the pre- 
dential chair. Many were the improvements introduced by 
that energetic ofiicer. He instituted the periodical celebration 
of the landing of the Maryland pilgrims in St. Mary's county, 
by the Philodemic Society, and with the aid, chiefly, of Frs. 
Curley and Thomas Meredith Jenkins, built and established, 
in 1843, the Astromomical Observatory of Georgetown College. 
In 1845 Fr. Mulledy was chosen President for a second time, 
and the efiiciency which distinguished his former term was con- 
tinued in this. His purchase of the College Villa, a country 
seat for occasional recreation, afforded a delightful retreat to 
the wearied student. He also added, early in 1848, the eastern 
half to the Infirmary, and further improved that building. He 



14 

was again followed^ in 1848, by his predecessor and former suc- 
cessor, Fr. Kyder. At this period the political troubles in 
Europe induced a considerable emigration to America of some 
of the most able members of the Society of Jesus, and the 
faculty of Georgetown was enriched by a large accession of 
learning and talent. Especially in the scientific departments 
were the abilities of these exiles most conspicuous, and the 
publications of Frs. Sestini, Secchi, Curley and Ciampi evince 
the high degree of literary activity which then prevailed. Fr. 
Ryder further improved the material part of the College by the 
construction of the gas works and the baths, and in 1851 he 
established the Medical Department of Georgetown College, 
now in successful operation in Washington city. 

Rev. Charles Henry Stonestreet succeeded Fr. Ryder in 1851, 
but after a term of one year he was appointed Provincial of the 
Society of Jesus, and gave up the chair to Rev. B. A. Maguire, 
then only thirty four years of age. Under his administration 
the prosperity of the College received even a greater impetus, 
and the list of students reached a higher number than had ever 
before been attained. The publications of Frs. Sestini and 
Curley showed a continuation of the literary activity. The 
erection, in 1854, of the large new building for juvenile stu- 
dents, an improvement long desired, afforded the increased ac- 
commodation the growing wants of the institution demanded. 
To effect this improvement it was found necessary to approach 
rather near the old Community burial ground lying southeast 
of the College, and consequently the bodies resting there were 
moved to the beautiful and romantic spot where they now re- 
pose. At this time, too, the green-house was built and the 
gardens thereto attached were laid out. In 1850 a uaagnificent 
altar of elaborately carved mahogany had been brought to the 
United States by Benjamin Green, Esq., United States commis- 
sioner to the island of Hayti, which had been taken from the 
ruined Jesuit church in the city of St. Domingo. Mr. Green 
had placed it at the disposal of the Archbishop of Baltimore, 
who presented it to Georgetown College. On its arrival there 
a special building was erected for its reception, and it was put 
together in all its old proportions, as well as space would 



15 

allow. But the erection of the ''small boys' building" re- 
quired its removal, and it being too large ever to be placed 
entire in any church in this country, it was taken to pieces, 
and portions of it were used from time to time for the adorn- 
ment of various churches. Fr. Magaire was continued in office 
for a term longer than is usual under the regulations of the So- 
ciety, and was not followed by his successor. Rev. John Early, 
until the latter part of 1858. The opening of Fr. Early's ad- 
ministration was marked by a continuation of the prosperity 
attained under his predecessor, but the culmination of the po- 
litical troubles of the country, in 1861, could not have failed to 
produce a most marked effect upon an institution situated 
directly midway between the contending sections, and imme- 
diately in the suburbs of a city, the "bone of contention" of 
the belligerents. Everything remained, indeed, remarkably 
quiet at the College, its patrons uot seeming to heed the rising 
of the tempest until the bombardment of Fort Sumter, the seces- 
sion of Virginia, and the call of President Lincoln for troops to 
suppress the rebellion. Then a sudden panic, as it were, 
seemed to seize the students, and every one was eager to rush 
to his home. In a few days the number was diminished from 
above three hundred to below one hundred ; and well was it so, 
for the troops that were pouring in for the succor of Washing- 
ton city, being without accommodations, Georgetown College 
was seized on as a barrack. On Saturday, the 4th of May, 
1861, those peaceful shades, never more beautiful than on that 
lovely spring evening, were occupied by the 69th, an Irish 
regiment, of New York militia. Nearly the whole of the main 
south row was filled by the soldiery, the professors and few re- 
maining students being crowded into the north building and 
the upper stories of the Infirmary. The change was so sudden 
that although notice was given only about the usual time for 
dismission of evening class, the occupation was completed be- 
fore dark, and the tone of military command, the tramp of the 
drill, and the sound of drum and fife, filled the hall which erst 
had re-echoed but to the voice of instruction or the hum of 
study. 

The 69th remained at the College for several weeks, and then 



16 

I)assed over into Virginia, on the first occupation of that State 
by the Federal troops. During their stay at Georgetown a 
scene was daily visible, which^ later in the war, seemed curious 
enough — that of the bridges over the Potomac being guarded at 
either end by soldiers of the respective belligerents, and passage 
being freely allowed to all comers and goers. The 69th was 
succeeded at the College by the '79th, a Scotch regiment, of 
New York. These remained until the 4th of July, that day 
significant of freedom witnessing the liberation of the institu- 
tion from military control. Notwithstanding this rude shock, 
old Georgetown was not in the least disturbed from her equa- 
nimity. Even when a knowledge of the watchword was necessary 
to enable its inmates to pass from one part of the house .to 
another, the scholastic exercises were regularly kept up, and 
continued to the end of the term ; and the next year opened in 
September with a small number of students, it is true, but with 
all the classes regularly organized. 

In spite of the mighty war raging around her, she continued 
during the year to recover slowly her prosperity; but the 
second battle of Bull Run happening in her immediate vicinity 
in 1862, during vacations, she was again seized on. The same 
space formerly occupied as a barrack now afforded an hospital, 
and for another year Georgetown gave up her normal duties — 
this time to yield place to the wounded, the sick and the dying. 
At length the erection of the large hospitals around Washing- 
ton relieved her, and in the latter part of 1863 she was again 
free. Still her list of students continued to show the eifects of 
the war; but when peace returned, in 1865, she immediately 
felt its invigorating impulse, and rapidly was her number re- 
cruited. The close of President Early's career was blessed by a 
return of the same prosperity which marked its opening, and 
after a term of more than seven years, during which he con- 
ducted the College with success through a period of severe and 
unexampled difficulty, he retired, January 1st, 1866, to give 
place, for a second time, to Rev. B. A. Maguire. The term of 
the present incumbent has already been marked, not only by a 
great accession to the number of students, but by many mate- 
rial improvements. Chief among these are the very considera- 



ble enlargement of the play-grounds, the embellishment of the 
towers, and the general renovation of the College buildings. 
These are understood to be but the precursors of further im- 
jjrovements, especially the erection of a large edifice demanded 
for various purposes, but particularly for the better accommo- 
dation of the valuable library. It is also designed to give the 
Chapel the distinctiveness of a separate building. The friends 
of the institution may therefore congratulate themselves that 
not only are the difiSculties induced by the war now over, but a 
career of even more than former success may be confidently 
expected for old Georgetown College. 



future feBnifion^ of tk ptilodemic Homtir, 



Hereafter the Grand Annaal Meeting of the Philodemic 
Society will take place on the day immediately precedin;^ the 
Annual Commencement of Georgetown College. The Com- 
mencement for the scholastic year 1867-'68 will be held on 
Thursday, July 2d, 1868. Arrangements have accordingly 
been made for the next Celebration on Wednesday, July 1st, 
and all the members of the Society and the Alumni of the Col- 
lege are cordially invited to be present. 



®li© Pk@t@g-i^pkl© Alfema^ 



In conformity with the notice contained in the invitation 
circular, a Photographic Album has been prepared for the re- 
ception of the photographs of the members of the Philodemic 
Society and the Alumni. This feature of the celebration ap- 
pears to have been received with great favor, and the Album 
already contains the likenesses of a large number of gentlemen, 
and forms a most interesting collection. As it is desired to 
preserve the portraits oi all the members and Alumni, together 
with the data specified in the circular, it is hoped that all those 
who have not yet done so will at an early day forward their 
photographs to the College. 



BY 

Hon. ALEXANDER DIIITRY, of La. 

OF THE 

G-TCbdiMCLting Class of 1^17 . 



Thirty-three years ago — the usual period allowed for the action of one 
generation and the incoming of its successor — I had the honor, as I now 
have, of standing here to speak within the walls of this Institution, so 
long and so faithfully consecrated to the purposes of the intellect. Since 
that period many a change, inseparable from all things human, has taken 
place. Within the peaceful precincts of this little world — the holy land 
of our youth — we of the elder years now look in vain for the old faces 
which once smiled in approval of our efforts. Equally in vain do we 
listen for the persuasive voices which warned and prepared us for the 
trials and struggles that the battle of life has not failed to bring in its 
course. In the outer and broader world, during that period, events have 
crowded upon events. Thrones have tottered and their occupants have 
passed away. New dynasties have sprung up, to be succeeded by other 
dynasties. The storm-breath of revolutions has swept over both hemi- 
spheres, and, in ruin and desolation, marked their bloody trackways. 
But our Republic of Letters has calmly watched the events and usefully 
hoarded the lessons of the age; while the Philodemic Society, gathered 
here in affectionate brotherhood to-day, true to the object of its institu- 
tion, faithful to its noble motto, has still continued to cultivate the arts of 
eloquence as a muniment of popular liberty. And if, at any time, more 
sedulously bound to cultivate that auxiliary of influence and power, it is 
assuredly at this period, when the prevalence of certain moral, social and 
political doctrines is at work to beat down the landmarks which expe- 
rience has set up for our better guidance. We hold it to be a duty, by 
all means, to enlarge this instrument of usefulness — this instrument of 



20 

eloquence — which rescued from barbarism and led into civilization the 
nations of the earth when the moral darkness seemed to overspread their 
destinies. When the hordes of barbarians marked their way by the de- 
struction of all that previous ages of civilization had conquered, it was the 
voice of eloquence which was raised to comfort the oppressed, to sustain 
the weak, and, with a dauntless advocacy, to plead for the cause of hu- 
manity. Especially was it so at the period when, with the crumbling of 
Roman power, brutal force was everywhere substituted for reason, human 
and divine. The days were no more when a Cicero or an Hortensius 
thundered from the rostrum — when consuls and tribunes, in the forum, 
stirred the people into watchfulness of senatorial aggressions — when the 
Scipios, the Fabii and the Catos had made way for the Clauds, the Neroes 
and the Domitians. In the midst of the appalling shock, though the 
voices of pagan masters of oratory were no longer heard, vindicating the 
right, eloquence of a higher reach, on the lips of the Basils, the Chrysos- 
toms, the Ambroses and the Augustines, assuaged the harshness of the 
despotic rule, instilled a feeling of mercy into the hearts of rulers, and 
imposed on their power some of the salutary checks which are guaranties 
of the happiness of nations. 

Impressed with this conviction — promised, as it were, to the defence of 
the people's rights, by the virtue of their device, "Eloquence, bound to 
Freedom," as a means of securing its perpetuity — the members of the Phi- 
lodemic Society, whether those who have already contributed to the offices 
of life, and are here to-day to bear witness of their love to the Alma 
Mater, or those who are about to enter on its obligations, know that in 
proportion with the power of the wrong must be the power of the means 
to defeat its force. Well trained in the schools of sound philosophy and 
of impartial history, they are not unmindful of the lessons that the latter 
gives, nor heedless of the warnings which the former has sounded in the 
ears of generations, which Time has gathered in its course. Well trained 
in those lessons, they revert in imagination to the various regions of the 
globe, and revive the various scenes that have been enacted on the great 
theatre of civilized life. They recall to mind the continued, rebellious 
conflict between wrong and right, and take note of the brave eflFort, the 
baffled hope and the broken heart. They go to every point where the 
conflict has raged, and they find the earth furrowed by streams swollen with 
the tears of victims or crimsoned by the blood of martyrs; while in the 
very murmurs of the air they fancy the shrieks that have been wrung for 
centuries from the agonies of millions. They mark the lurid shadows of 
nations which have toppled from their places of power, and mourn over 



21 

the wrecks of freedom's temples, reared but yesterday to cumber the earth 
with their ruins to-morrow. 

Lessoned in this way — saddened, perhaps, by these scenes of desolation 
abroad — they feel it to be a duty to spare no exertion to ward them off 
from the land which has given them birth. They turn to it with a hope 
for the continuance of its inheritance of freedom ; for the principles of a 
well-adjusted government; for the guaranty of laws with which the fra- 
mers fenced it round, and for the opening of enlarged spheres of useful 
industry and rewarding pursuits. Especially would they exult in the 
property of mind and the blessings of knowledge, such as they have 
drawn here, at the fountain-heads of learning and science. But thus ex- 
ulting, they cannot forget that other nations have had their marts of com- 
merce, their workshops of industry and their altars of freedom, that have 
disappeared in the shadows of immemorial time. Remember these, and 
ask yourselves whether the future reserves any exemption for the country, 
unless we shall profit by the examples of tiie past, and prove more chary 
of private virtues and public rights ? Ask that past to tell you the secret 
of the fall and ruin of states. Ask it to open its volumes, with the record 
of wisdom inscribed upon its thousands of pages, and there may be found 
admonitions, which those who govern can read with profit, where passion 
does not blind and injustice prevail. Nay, why should we go to other 
annals, when we can turn to our own, and ascertain whether we have 
used the best means to make ourselves faithful guardians of the legacy of 
freedom, of which, I trust, we may yet show ourselves to be deserving 
heirs ? We should appeal to those annals, and learn whether we have not 
duties to perform as well as rights to enjoy. 

This consideration commends itself to our attention under the force of 
peculiar claims. It is a great calamity when a generation fails in the part 
assigned to it in the drama of social life. Especially is it a calamity so to 
fail when that generation seems to have been destined for agencies which, 
for evil or for good, tell forever on the page of history. In such event 
the chain is broken, and leaves a gap in the better traditions of our race. 
For what is tradition but the living testimony of the past, that can no 
longer speak otherwise for itself? What is it but a law of our nature, 
long pre-existing the written law, by virtue of which, among other things, 
one generation borrows at its birth and conveys at its death? So that 
the best condition of society should be that in which a generation can 
borrow most of what is useful, good and pure, as it enters the social world, 
and return largest measures of that kind as it leaves its concerns and 
hopes. In this view, and it is a true one, one generation is not only 



22 

responsible for itself, but it also incurs an obligation toward that which is 
marked as its successor ! 

Under this mortgage on our fidelity and our trust, what have we bor- 
rowed, and what are we preparing to lend in return? In the course of 
the last thirty-five years, just one-half of the term of life allotted to men, 
to what had been handed down to us, and which, I much fear, we have 
madly squandered away, we have, here and there, added many hoardings 
of the intellect. We have, in the prosecution of merely material develop- 
ments, created more agencies and invented more appliances than all the 
civilized world has contrived. We have explored and worked more coal- 
mines than our plain ancestors had conceived to lurk in the bowels of the 
earth. By new uses of already acquired powers, we have seamed the 
surface of the country with bands of iron, wheeling over them persons 
and property, by processes which, exhibited to that ancestry, might have 
commended the inventors to the fiery rewards of the stake, or to the exor- 
cisms of witchcraft at least. By the like uses, we have taught brute ma- 
chineries to sow and reap for us, and to harvest the products of our fields. 
With steam to our navies, we have explored rivers and oceans which had 
place only in the questioned narratives of a Marco Polo or the fabulous 
legends of a Prester John. The sunbeam, from its worlds of light, has 
been impressed in our service and converted into an obedient artist, that 
spreads a pleasing landscape or portrays a friendly face. The lightning, 
which the scientific genius of the country had lured from its seat in the 
clouds, to guide it to the very spot where it should expend its anger, 
another genius now hurries over the lines which we have stretched in air 
to convey the records of feeling and thought, of wisdom and folly, of vir- 
tue and crime. Nay, not content with this conquest over the fields of 
air, we have carried the subtle agent down depths of the ocean, hitherto 
unexplored, and there, in mere wantonness of power, under mountains of 
billows, we have imprisoned it as the slave of our will, and compelled it 
to flash in obedience to our wants I ^ 

All these things, implying successful researches in the arcana of sci- 
ence, and successful applications to material improvements — all pointing 
to the daily triumphs of man over the rebellions of nature — we have 
achieved in the physical world. But is there nothing more binding on 
our exertions, in another order of achievements? If the injunction of the 
poet, "Neither a borrower nor a lender be," is a salutary one for the 
individual, is it as fitly applicable to the collective being called Society? 
We had l)orrowed largely of the forefathers of the land. In the political 
relation, we had borrowed a rich estate of freedom. What has become 



23 

of it in our hands? In the social relation, we had borrowed examples of 
frugal habits and civic worth. Whence the luxury, the profligacies and 
the crimes which daily startle society ? What they had not done in the 
intellectual circle we have striven to achieve, and, striving, we have 
achieved. But what marked, controlling additions have we brought to 
the moral world? Have we enlarged its boundaries? Have we deepened 
its lines or intensified its beauties ? Look abroad, and make answer for 
yourselves ; for mine might betray me into something more than the ex- 
pression of a fear, that we have kept no equilibrium between intellectual 
advances and moral achievements. I might be tempted to whisper — that 
in the juncture of our political affairs the man who dares to speak openly 
for justice, for truth and for right, may be branded with treason; that a 
descending scale of morals, in our Republic, has waited upon a presump- 
tuous standard of intellect ; if it be that sounder intellect can ever exist 
without the purer moralities of life. Instead of the latter, judging from 
the spirit of recklessness which has touched the land in its length and 
breadth — from the disregard if not the spurning of the better teachings 
which foolish predecessors once held to be so many vouchers of endurance 
and safety to society — some might say that, far from honestly returning 
what was borrowed from those who have gone before us, we are in the 
very act of lending to our inheritors a shrunken patrimony, defaced by 
wild and flagitious courses, by a general impatience of restraint, by a 
growing contempt of right in every form, and especially by a studied 
perversion of the principles of a government which, for nearly a century, 
had made of us the object of the envy and admiration of the world at 
once. 

I am not of those who would rashly arraign the period in which we live 
and move; but I regret that something less of the " earth earthy" should 
not be allowed to temper the unappeasable thirst that parches away every 
beauty from the soul, and to check the tendency of the times, which, war- 
ring against the contemplation of the higher things of life, stimulates into 
enormity merely material interests with their hideous progeny of lower 
and brutal appetites. Against these — against the profligacy — against the 
immorality and the irreligion which they breed — there is a conflict to be 
waged, that demands the concerted efforts of all who reverence the laws of 
God, prize the institutions of the country and value the happiness of pos- 
terity . Send forth the spirit that once stirred in the hearts of the fathers 
of the land; let it lead you, gentlemen, to the struggle, with equal vigor 
and equal trust, against the only enemies who can seriously threaten the 
structure of your government; and like them you may hope to conquer, 



24 

and like them transmit blessings to grateful descendants. Let this be 
done, and we may perhaps dismiss the picture of a country lost and of 
institutions trampled in the dust. Let this be done, and we may smile at 
the generous fear that already sees the name of America inscribed on the 
broken column — the mournful monitor of republics overturned! But to 
help in averting so sad a consummation, and in avoiding the recurrence 
of the conflict, something else must be done. We must root out the 
baneful idea, which seems to have possessed us, that there is something 
of intrinsic efficacy in American politics, or of peculiar protection in the 
American character, to secure, without extraneous efforts, the continuance 
of popular institutions, and therefore of popular rights. For this security 
we must look largely to the moralizing of our youth and the preparation 
of their minds for all the demands of society. 

Now I know no better apprenticeship of life than an education, liberal, 
refining and moralizing at once, such as an University like this offers to 
our youths — an education in which the elegancies of classical learning, 
the severer principles of science and the essential teachings of religion, 
combined into harmony, seldom fail to make of human life a sum of use- 
fulness and worth. The mention of ancient letters, among the elements 
of such an education, trenches, I am aware, on what it is almost fashiona- 
ble to deride. Now than these literary studies — of which some experience 
has been mine — I know no better processes to invigorate and enlarge the 
judgment of youth. They involve methods of teaching and disciplines of 
mind through which few of the great men of the world have not gone, 
and which no one who aims at a finished education can neglect, without 
incurring some risk of inferiority. The end and result of these methods 
is to excite the youthful intellect by the unceasing decomposition and re- 
composition of thought, wrapped up in the intricacies of languages lost to 
the mass of mankind. This is nothing more than the continuous appli- 
cation of analysis and synthesis — the two claws, if I may so call them, 
by which men grasp at knowledge and secure its fruits. There are some 
superficial people, with good intentions no doubt, who imagine that the 
scope of this long labor is to learn so many G-reek and Latin words, soon 
forgotten, or at best unused. Then they exclaim: "Why all this study, 
when the result compensates neither the trouble nor the time, while it 
adds little if anything to the practical management of affairs?" Do they 
imagine that it added nothing to the practicalness of Jefferson, one of the 
most practical men, that, with a cold, philosophic eye, ever looked into 
the various concerns of life? Nothing to the practicalness of John 
Quincy Adams, the statesman and lawgiver, whom the detractors might 



25 

have seen, any day, in the alcoves of the Congressional library, poring 
over some volume of classic lore? Nothing to the practicalness of Web- 
ster, whom I have seen leaving the glare and the dazzle of stately revel- 
ries, to borrow, in his study, a moment's refreshment from the pages of 
the Sallust in his hand? Nothing to the practicalness of a host of states- 
men, patriots and scholars, from another portion of the Republic, of 
whom I must be satisfied to ask "expressive silence muse their praise?" 
Did the question turn upon this point only, the objection might well pass 
unnoticed. There is, however, another principal object, which the railers 
fail to perceive— the training of men who are at some day to act upon 
society by the lever of thought— special workmen of the intellect, for 
which they are admirably prepared by work on the classical languages — 
the object of classical studies. No, no ! you must not, in your zeal 
to replace, as you say, "the ideal by the real," ask us to renounce a 
mixed system of education, which teaches the mind how to know, direct 
and possess itself, and accept your exclusive system of " specialties," which 
keeps it moving on the tread-mill of a single pursuit. You must not ask 
us to resign the splendors of intellectual development — letters, eloquence 
and the arts — for the mere wealth of industry or trade, which may be 
equally purchased by them. Yielding to you, we might possibly become 
bettei' versed in what concerns gross perishable matter. We might 
probable be better advantaged by fickle fortune, which comes and goes 
with the revolution of a wheel. We would certainly multiply the means 
of securing earthly, sensual life, and, ipso facto, of abusing its trusts 
and lowering its dignity. But will we be more happy for these conquests 
over the dross of the earth? Shall we, therefore, be refined in the in- 
stincts of the higher nature ? The answer you may consider doubtful ; 
but what is not doubtful — what is certain — is that our civilization, gilded 
and jewelled as you may make it, will be less beautiful, noble and pure. 
It is not in human power long to preserve the moral being called Society, 
if it be reduced to the control of merely material interests. Its path is 
marked like the orbit of planets in the heavens. Like them it has laws 
which cannot be violated with impunity. They rest on religious faith — 
on the slavery of duty — on submission to the Jaws — on the obligations of 
filial piety — on the reverence of parental authority, and on the reciprocal 
loving-kindness — the contrast of selfishness — which convert the members 
of a great body into one great family. And yet all or most of these social 
securities the nature of your system tends gradually to dissolve. As 
with the builders of the mystic city, of which you have read, vain is the 
labor of those who attempt to build up the structures of the intellect, if 
4 



26 

the labor, through human agents, be not strengthened by more than 
human hands. There is ample reason for this in the fact, that through 
the elements only of training, for which we contend, can man reach the 
full proportions of his nature and compass the measure of his dignity. I 
own, indeed, that your realistic system may bring out some of the won- 
derful capacities which lurk in the brain^ like diamonds in the earth. 
Gems of surpassing lustre may be brought up from the mines of thought. 
Bold ideas — and heaven knows that we have ideas so bold that they have 
become absurd — bold ideas may flit across the disc of the intellect, like 
wings of eagles across the circle of the sun. The forms of mind, like the 
block of marble under the hand of the artist, may be fashioned into 
moulds of seeming beauty. But without the diviner spirit, breathing out 
of the elements which I have pointed out to you — a spirit giving life and 
power to those studies which you impiously, I had almost said enviously 
revile — the spirit not of purely earthly birth — which delights to ennoble 
our grosser nature— to bathe in the glories of an upper world — the proudest 
forms of the human mind^ like the choicest works of the sculptor's hand, 
are doomed to be forever locked in lifeless symmetry. Nay, the very 
blaze of mere science, which too often dazzles the brain, without the 
beautifying influences of those studies, may, like the useless flashings of 
the northern lights, but serve to reveal dark and repulsive pictures, 
scenes of barren hopelessness and^ wastes of icy desolation, which no 
power of man can vivify ! I do not pretend to the hardihood of looking 
into the ways and intents of Providence. Still, in the roar of all devour- 
ing cupidity — in the maelstrom of passionate greed — in the extravagance 
of an insatiate luxury — in the fanaticism of pretended reformers — and 
mainly in the vulgar ambition of political charlatans — many might trace 
the cause of much of the horrors which have sundered the bonds of 
brotherhood, convulsed the country to its foundations, appalled the sensi- 
bilities of mankind, and hunted out all feeling of ruth from the heart 

And now, gentlemen, junior members of the Philodemic Society, with 
these considerations the duties which you are about to assume naturally 
connect you in my mind. If the great events which have filled the few 
late years have brought some distractions in your studies, they have cer- 
tainly not impaired the fidelity of your pursuits. May you, at least, never 
forget the lesson which they have added to those of science and of love; 
and let this premature experience of the deadliness of fanatical madness 
and rival ambitions, which has gloomed the dawn of your youth, be not 
lost to the wisdom of your maturer years. The nature of such trials, 
gentlemen, is quickly to initiate men into an appreciation of the higher 



virtues, and, even now, you no doubt fully understand how excesses may 
prove less fatal, if the sense of order and of right have survived them, in 
the productions of the mind, The greater, therefore, the amount of free- 
dom that may be vouchsafed to you, the more binding on you to strengthen 
the moral check in the heart — the more important to fortify the authority 
of the laws over society. But, gentlemen, the discipline which has been 
the essence of your education and the first condition of your collegiate 
success — what is it but the earl}^ apprenticeship of respect for law and 
observance of right? Continue, therefore, ever to revere, in the sanctuary 
of your conscience, the moral law, of which the written law, to be bind- 
ing, must be a faithful transcript, and to cherish it as a guide of all your 
actions in life. In recalling, whether in pride or in sorrow, the liberties 
once asserted by your fathers, you will not forget at what price they were 
secured. You will not forget that everything that is great, good or beau- 
tiful must be purchased by sacrifice. Justice, freedom and truth are 
great appanages of our species ; but Providence has willed that man should 
conquer them, like the daily bread. Attempts at their re-conquest at the 
price of blood have been made, and the political order of the country has 
acquired the sad privilege of honoring martyrs on both sides. But my 
words would not turn your attention to a gloomy picture. They would 
rather invite your minds to more consoling thoughts, and ask you, until 
the wounds of the country are healed, piously to cherish the memory of 
the better days, when there were no wounds to be healed. In the 
presence of less darksome hopes for the country, what can your friends 
ask of you, unless that you shall re'solve, and, having resolved, that you 
shall strive to take your place among the foremost of her children, helping 
to soothe the asperities of the past, and to repair the reciprocal errors and 
wrongs of your sires ? 

It were vain to attempt to conceal from you that in arduous, if not 
perilous times, you are about to step into active life, on pathways which 
the unfathomable designs of God still cover with a mysterious darkness, 
which no human eye can pierce. No one may forecast the duration or 
foresee the incidents of the peace-conflict in which you may soon be in- 
volved. Before its decision, perchance, most of the generation of your 
seniors may have gone to their accountabilities before a tribunal that 
knows no error and admits no appeal, and you be summoned to take their 
place, with your responsibilities for weal or for woe. You have here 
learned the sound maxim which teaches that corruptio optimi pessima; 
and you will not consent to that worst form of corruption which corrupts 
the purest of things. I have no fears, gentlemen; but have every trust 



28 

in you. I attest your elder compeers, gathered from various points of 
the country — I attest two Tull generations of upright and patriotic citizens, 
who learned the bondage of duty here. I attest you, whose present is a 
bond for the future. You, in this respect, can never, whether in word 
or deed, incur the rebuke of this wisdom of antiquity. It has been your 
blessing, one in which we, your seniors, once shared, to have for teachers 
men of high reaches of intellect, of great wealth of virtue, who, with the 
precept, have not spared the example — men for whom you and ourselves 
claim, in the words of the great Florentine, the right lovingly to proclaim 
our gratitude: 

''Fast in my mind 

Is fixed, and closely folded in my heart, 

Your dear and good, paternal face, what years 

It looked on me, and hour by hour, ye taught 

The way for man to reach eternity — 

And how I prized the lesson, well beseems 

That long as life endures, my tongue should speak." 

Thanks, then, to the lights, thanks to the zeal, early and late, at once 
watchful and fatherly, of the wise heads and large experience that beaconed 
you along. You have not only fully and honorably sustained the dignity 
of our society, but you have also, in your bearing, given bright promise 
that you will not fail to supply your country with good men and enlight- 
ened citizens — given promise that it shall not want, in you, what it has too 
often missed in its sorest needs, and what, above all things, it now sorely 
wants, incorruptible souls and unswerving wills — whenever, through the 
voice of duty, it may call on your service, heart and brain, tongue and 
hand, to resist every scheme of oppression, fight every advance of 
tyranny, and maintain the right from whatever quarter assailed. 

Even now, gentlemen, before your eager eyes, the visions of distinction 
and fame come trooping through the ivory gate. Yet, the noble ends to 
which they marshal you, you need not expect to attain without labor and 
perseverance, which, with virtue, are the only conditions of fruitful suc- 
cess, — labor and perseverance, I say, which multiply the powers of the 
mind and give impetus to its best efforts. 

Be but steadfast to your good traditions and you will enlarge your tal- 
ents. Be convinced that of all earthly goods talent, after all, is the 
most desirable, as it is the most durable; of all means of adding to your 
usefulness and your welfare, it is the most certain; of all paths which 
lead to place and renown, it is the safest and the most direct. It is not 
only defiant of the vicissitudes of time, but it also compensates for the in- 
justice or violence of man should they assail. A man of the most emi- 



29 

nent merit may be despoiled of the gifts of fortune, repelled from the 
higher offices of society, or even sent on the ways of exile from a shat- 
tered hearth. But nothing can ever impress — no court ever decree away 
— his stock of knowledge, which gives consciousness of superiority ; and 
none can ever wrest from his grasp the wand of learning, harvested 
through seasons of assiduous toil. As from the spring of Marah, which 
mocked the lips of Israel in its wanderings, the waters of life may rise in 
bitterness along his pilgrimage : but, like the rod of the Leader, it is but 
casting in the wand of knowledge, and the waters will again bubble in 
sweetness and refreshment. 

Do not, therefore, ask me why this labor and perseverance are thus en- 
joined. Do not tell me, as, in my humble ministry of education, I have 
heard many say, "Is not life life? Are not comfort, contentment and 
ease its crowning developments?" The crowning developments of life, 
young gentlemen? The grave — the end of the true man's labors — 
that is the crowning development of this life for another life ! Mere con- 
tentment and ease, gentlemen, are the sure precursors of the suspension, 
if not the wane, of the energies of life. As surely as the blood, strug- 
gling in slackened courses through the veins, tokens the gradual ap- 
proaches of dissolution, so surely will the influences of contentment and 
ease bring on the apathy, which is death to all noble or useful efforts ! 
Shake them off, gentlemen, if they mean anything but the ease that comes 
out of useful exertions — the content which attends the serenity of a re- 
warding conscience, listen not to the Syren song of ease — taste not 
of the Circean cup of contentment — if the one means the song that lulled 
the mariner of old into sensual dreaminess, the other the cup that washed 
away the image of God from its sanctuary ! 

And now, gentlemen, to-morrow you pass from the silence of the study- 
room and the sports of your play grounds to the calls and turmoils of the 
world, with the character and obligations of citizens of the republic. As 
in the days of olden Rome, when in the darker solemnities of her Ver 
Sacrum she drove her sons, in the spring-tide of their youth, across her 
frontiers to dare the chances of life, so your Alma Mater — but with a dif- 
ferent spirit, the loving spirit that cheered and sustained you along the 
paths of learning — will to-morrow hand you across her threshold to the 
avenues which the future may open to your lawfuU ambition, controlled 
by honest intents and directed by cultivated powers. But unlike Pagan 
Home, sending forth her progeny with a veil before their eyes — a fearful 
augury of error — to wander gropingly through every phase of darkness, 
your provident mother has opened yours to all the opulence of the beau- 



30 

tiful and all the obligations of the true^ so that your young lives may 
not stumble in their course; so that, adorned with every splendor of vir- 
tue and weaponed with every appliance of knowledge_, they may, to the 
last, be consecrated to the worship and the defense of the Truth, the les- 
sons of which you have learned within these hallowed walls. Gather, 
thenceforth, around the Truth ! Truth, from the sunbeam that straggles 
from a world of light to the veriest particle of dust which you brush from 
your path ! Truth in the intellectual world, the social world, and the re- 
ligious world ! Truth, everywhere, at every point of the circumference 
of the earth ! And beyond, and further still, beyond the flaming bounds 
of the universe, up to the footstool of the Almighty, whence it gushes 
from fountains of perennial freshness and undying power ! 



1^ h; A. C "E 



1. 

Boom! boom! Toll! toll! 
Hark, how the echoes gather and roll, 
Gather and roll thro' the land afar, 
Unto its uttermost verge, 
Gather and roll with a mighty surge. 
Far, far, 
Under the sun and under the star, 
V\ ith a clash and clangor 

Of bells, and a roar 
Of guns, that in anger 
Are roaring no more. 
From fleet and fortress, from tower and steeple 

Crashes a stormy voice, 
Till the winds sing and the waves sing 

To all the land, "Rejoice!" 
And clear thro' the clamor of bells and guns, 
A joyous, tremulous whisper runs, 
By meadow and mart. 
From lip to lip and from heart to heart, 
From lips that quiver, from hearts that spill 

Over the eyelids their brimming tears, 
Shaken in hope's first thrill — 

A whisper that wavers and doubts and fears, 
Yet wins its way into willing ears, 
Till it swells to an anthem, solemri and grand. 

Sweeping the length and the breadth of the Land 

The hymn of a rescued People ! 
A voice of triumph that whoso hears 
Shall catch his breath with a mighty thrill, 
And lips that quiver, and eyes that fill 
With the April rain of a sudden jo^'^: 

The voice of a People uplifted in praise 
For vanquished terrors and past annoy, 

And troubles of darker da3^s : 
The ptean of Paul let free of prison ; 
Lazarus' hymn from the dead rerisen ; 

Miriam's song by the Red Sea shore: 
A voice that shall march thro' the listening years 
Evermore : 



32 



A voice that shall scatter the starless night 
Of crowned Wrong and caitiff Might, 

And shall nerve the heart of an unborn Time 

To lofty thought and to deed sublime 
In the endless battle of Right. 

So the chorus rises and swells, 

With boom of cannon and clangor of bells,. 
And thunder of voices on street and strand, 
Over the length and the breadth of the land, 

Till far aAvay from across the seas, 

Borne on the lips of the courier breeze, 
A kindred nation 

Sends faint echo of exultation 
To join in the jubilant chorus of Peace ! 

2. 

Peace, and a land at rest 

From the toil and the travail of years, 
From the terror for all she loved best, 

From the wo that was worse than her fears : 
From the ploughing of hate and the planting of wrath, 

And the harvest of blood and tears. 
Peace ! Did it drop from a star ? 

Was it blown in the breath of the wind 
From a happier heaven afar. 
That it lay in our thorny path, 

A flower to be trodden behind 
By the fierce red heel of our War, 

Scarce seeing it, reckless to see. 
Scarce knowing it, seeing it fair, 

To be sprung of his loins and to be 
Of his toils and his triumphs the heir? 

But be sure, whencesoever it came. 
It came from the God of Peace : 

He hath written His mandate in flame, 

On the walls of the day and the night, 
That the strife and the anguish shall cease : 

He hath broken away the cloud 

That hid from our eyes the light, 

That folded our land as a shroud. 

Arid lay on the world for a blight ; 
And the sun and the stars proclaim 

With a mighty voice and loud, 
That the wo and the wrath and i he shame 

Are banished forever and aye — 
He haih set up His rainbow on high. 

He hath rent the cloud curtain away. 
And the fixce of the earth and the face of the sky. 

In the light of His presence arc gay. 



33 



a. 

Peace and tbe smile of God, 

Dawn after darkest night, 
Fountain, at stroke of the Prophet's rod 

Making the wilderness bright, 
Track, from the dark and the desert untrod 

Into a Land of Light ! 
Beautiful Promised Land, 

Longed for with burning desire, 
With hope that was built on the sand, 

And fear that was fuel to fire — 
Sought for and fought for with heart and with hand, 

In fury of blind desire, 
With wrathful heart and woful hand. 

And striving that knew not to tire; 
Till at last from the thorny places. 

From the wrath and the shame and the wo, 
We found the hidden traces, 

And followed to Jordan's flow, 
And stood on Pisgah's summit. 
And with laughter and tears saw from it 

All Canaan bloom below ! 
But our Prophet was taken from us, 

Who had marshalled the ways we trod, 
To a land of yet Fairer Promise, 

To the Peace of the Plains of God. 

4. 

Peace ! Do we realize it even yet ? 
We others that have held aloof 
Thro' these long years of agony and doubt. 
That slowly, slowly forged our future out, 

With many a shock of battle, toil and sweat, 
And blood of all our bravest and our best. 

Who risked the final test 
Of virtue in the front of danger set. 

And gave divinest proof 
Of love for this dear land so sore beset. 
Not satisfied to give 
Mere mockery of aid, tame, timorous prate 

Of ''ifs" and ''buts," vain hope and vain regret : 
Not satisfied to live, 
If, dying, they might better serve the state : 
They saw to dare was greater than to think, 

Flung all their prodigal hearts into the strife. 
And carved their love on battle's perilous brink, 

In fiery sentences, each word a life. 
Perchance we loved and served our country too ; 
But how know we what Peace is, knowing not War? 

5 



34 



We heard the thunder from afar, 
Missed from our midst some usual face and knew 
God's bolt had found its mark. Our small griefs grew 
To yeil a day in gloom, then waned and fled, 
As in the living we forgot the dead — 

And so we fought our War. 
Or, if the lightning smote some dearer head, 

So bound to us by every tenderest tie 
Of love and kinship that our heartstrings bled. 
And withered in us, and each household Lar 

Of Use aad Wont shrieked shrill in agony ; 
And life was shrivelled in the awful blaze 
That lit to death our dear ones, and the days 
Were turned to ashes and all joy was grief, 
And hope a mockery, and a lie belief — 
What in the shadow ^f such sovereign wo 

Were War or Peace to us but phantasms dim. 
Scarce unlike phases of a hideous dream 
We see and know not, caring not to know ? 

5. 

Is Peace then ours ? The sky is not more blue. 

The sun more bright, the summer fields more fair 

With myriad blooms of every changeful hue, 
Nor sleeps in stiller swoon, 
Meshed in a net of light, the languorous air, 

Unvexed by any song of bird or bee. 

Cradled to slumber in the lap of noon ; 
Not any whit more beautiful, our June 

Blushes amid her roses, 'neath this free. 

Clear Northern heaven we love so, than of yore, 
When every Northward-straining breeze upbore 
To us first awestruck, anxious next, and then 
Incurious, clash of arms and shock of men, 
And fitful clang of battle, heard no more 
Than Ocean's faint-heard roar 

In the dull monotone of its murmuring shell ; 
When oh the far horizon loomed a rack 
Of beetling storm, thro' all its sullen black 

Seamed with the frequent lightning : — yet there fell 

No blight upon our harvests ; in our marts 

Men bought and bartered, chaffering o'er their gains, 

Nor recked what grim exchange of gallant hearts 

Death dealt in on those far-off storm-swept plains. 

As gamesters play with cards, played they with war, 
And staked their hoarded dross 

Upon the turn of a battle, — lost or won 

They cared not, only for their gain or loss. 



35 



A storm was in the land. What then? Afar 
From us it held : serenely as before, 

Flowed on our lives, lit by as fair a sun, 

And all the world than we seemed shaken more 
By that wild ruin on our Southern shore. 

6. 

Not so, not so ! Ourselves ourselves do wrong, 

That say it ! Though the sordid few, 
Unblest thenceforth by any breath of song. 
To Mammon gave the altar that was due 
To country, — let their paltry pelf 
Outweigh a Nation in the scales of self. 
And Freedom's sword were well content to yield, 
But clamored bravely for her golden shield — 
They were but few — alas, that they were any ! 
A poor and pitiful few 

That leavened not the many : 
The great heart of the People throbbed as ever true. 
Nor less than they whose blood on many a field 

Their pure devotion sealed 
Loved we this land of ours, 
And throned her queen of all our vassal powers, 
And served with incense of our brightest hours ; 
But ah ! less blest than they, 
Round whom her proudest smile hath poured eternal day 1 

7. 

To dare, to dare, to dare ! 
To fill the yawning gap 

Astride a stricken cause. 
With spirit bold to bear 
Any whatever hap, 

And hand that will not pause 
Or stay from smiting, till the foe 
Fly or fall beneath its blow. 
And stubborn foot that gives not back 
Only a step from its foremost track — 

Ah ! to stand 
So, in gaze of all the land, 
One defiant, godlike form. 
Breasting well the fiery storm. 

Fiercely fair. 
With flaming eyes and floating hair, 
Superb on battle's windy height. 

And bright 
With battle's aureole of sanguine light : 



36 



So to stand, 
Poised in sight of all the land — 
That were noble, glorions, grand I 

So to fall. 
Having well but yaialy striren, 
Feet to foe and face to heaven, 
Nobler, grander yet — sublime 
Death that overmasters Time ! 

His country's love shall be his pall 
That falls so, and his country's tears 
Shall keep his name in blooiu thio' unforgetful years. 



So your country's love ye won, high hearted, 

When not vainly rang her clarion call : 
Yours her bitterest tears are, brave departed, 

Never prized as in your glorious fall. 
Chosen of her sons shall ye be cherished 

Wham unscathed she welcomes from the strife : 
Chide her not if to her dear ones perished, 

Tears she gives — alas ! she cannot, life. 
They, when first her bugles blew the rally, 

Sprang with you to battle by her side : 
Now they sleep in many a Southern valley. 

You return to say how well they died. 
Yours are all she hath of wealth or station. 

Every guerdon that befits the brave : 
Theirs the solemn thanks of lamentation. 

And the tear-sown daisies of the grave. 
But for all her sons her heart hath places, 

Most in mourning them she praiseth ye : 
Tis her joy at sight of your dear faces, 

Feeds her grief for them she may not see. 
Side by side ye wrote the brightest pages 

Of her history in words of flame, 
And together to remotest ages. 

Far she flings the radiance of your fame. 
So they are not dead who went before ye 

To receive their heritage of light. 
One same immortality of Glory 

Plucks ye both from Fate, and Time, and envious Night. 

9 
To them be praise, 
Honor and thanks of all men through all days. 
Who took their lives in their hands and went. 
At the first call of duty. 
Gaily as bridegrooms in their youthful beauty. 
Thro' fire and flood and fell, strange ways of strife. 



37 



Yet swerved not, nor were bent 

Only an instant from their stern intent 

To snatch a wounded cause 

Out of the snarling cannon's jaws, 
And breathe into its swoon their own fresh life, 
Whose eyes have looked in Death's eyes — darkly grand 

Imperious, lurid, basilisk eyes — nor quailed ; 

Who in love's very wantonness have scaled 
The slippery cliffs of doom, 

And plucked from Glory's eyrie some wild plume 
To deck th}^ beauteous brows, beloved Land ! 

Ah, yes, to them be praise. 

Honor and thanks of all men through all days, 
Fair lives and fortunes bland : 
These to the living — to the dead, twice blest, 
Twin crowns of Earth and Heaven, and God's eternal rest. 

10 

But were there not of ns, too, those 
Who loved and served and shared their country's woes? 
Make answer ye. 
To whom not any praise shall be. 
Honor, or thanks like theirs, but only God, 

That readeth hearts, shall see 
How humbly ye have kissed His chasteniog rod 
• And hugged your agony. 
The bugle's blare 
Shrilled wildly thro' the shuddering air. 

And lo ! 
Your loved ones were not with you, but their feet 
Were set on that dark track. 

Where martial steps clank forth but printless feet flit back. 
They went — you let them go. 
And sate you down to wrestle with your sorrow, 
And fight with shadows, wan, weird brood 
Of memories sadly sweet, 
And bitter sad forebodings ne'er subdued. 
Ah me ! the darkened homes 
Where never sunlight comes 
But always Night that knows not any morrow. 
Was it the long procession sad and slow, 

Mournful with flags, dull throb of muffled drums, 
And wailing music, brought us home our wo? 
Or was it dropped from Rumor's casual mouth. 
That, somewhere in the far and fatal South, 
A fair young head was low, 
A brave young heart was still, its life blood poured 

To slake the ravening drouth 
Of those black fields ploughed only by the sword ? 



38 



What matters how it came, that baleful breath, 
Blown backward from the poisonous lips of Death 
To palsj Life, the liar, 
That told us Death was not. Oh, word of doom ! 
That made the laughing Hours grim sextons of the tomb, 
And the wild Present one fierce point of fire 
Disparting twin eternities of gloom : 
A pinnacle of pain, 
Upheaved as by an earthquake's ire. 
Lone in the shoreless dark of Sorrow's moaning main ! 

11 

0, Sorrow, sombre visitant, 

Unbidden and unwelcome guest, 
Death's pale forerunner, sycophant 

And heir of Death : whose worst bequest 
Is madness or a life's unrest ; 
Whose best, 
The sullen opiate that dulls thy blows ; 
Who scatterest fire and balm. 
And sett' St reluctant chrism on bleeding brows 
Thy crown of thorns hath prest ; 

Who rarest and art calm ; 
Whose right hand bears the sword, whose left the palm ; 
Inconstant, variable thou , 
Annoyer erst, consoler now — 
In all thy moods the loftier soul, 
Self-centred, self-possessed, 

Drinking di^ traction 
Deep from the mantling cup of action. 

Knows how to tame thee to its stern control, 
And bind with gyves of great deeda, and so wrest 
The mastery from thee, and make thee its slave. 

But to the home-caged heart. 
Whose love is all its might, its only art, 

Numbed by the viper Doubt it could not warm, 
And shrouded in suspense 
That scarce anticipates the grave. 
Thy hand is heavy and fraught with deadly harm, 
Thou comest malignant and intense, 
A very tyrant then from whom 
The sole, sad freedom is the tomb. 

12 

Such Sorrow was with them 
Who gave the lives that more they loved than life. 
To dim the sacrificial knife. 

To pour, 
In battle's vintage crushed, the wine — 
Bitter as brine, 



39 



But potent to restore, — 
That nations drinking have found health once more. 
0, sacred grief! not mine, not mine, 
With sacrilegious hand thy veil to raise, 

But reverently I kiss thy garment's hem, 
And reverently I twine 
Around thy crown of thorns their blood-stained bays — 
A deathless diadem ! 

13. 

Then say not we held us aloof 

Who drew no battle brand : 
We have woven the warp, if they the woof. 

In this mantle of Peace for our land. 
To every man is given 

His part in the plans of Heaven, 
And, so that the service be thorough, 

The way shall not be scanned, 
Whether he follow the furrow, 

Or in the trenches stand, 
Whether he plot with the tireless brain, 

Or strive with the mightful hand. 
The truth that the cannon thunder. 

Is whispered as clear in the lyre ; 
The flame shines brightest, but under 

The flame is the heart of the fire. 

14. 

Peace, peace ! Ah yes, we know our peace is won : 
There is a secret gladness in the air, 

A glory in the sun, 
A freshness in the world that was not there. 
Round us, reflected in all eyes. 
We read the beauty of serener skies, 
Where calm and large and fair. 
Once more the planet of our fate doth rise 

Past clouds of wan despair. 
Peace brims our hearts : from round about us all 

Our troubles seem to fall 
Like cast-off garments we have ceased to wear. 
With all its myriad voices 
The happy land rejoices, 
And every voice is loud in praise and prayer. 
Yea, even they. 
Whom grief holds utterly, not for a day. 
But in all time forever, make them gay. 
And light sad eyes with transient lights of joy. 
That this first taste of bliss be bliss without alloy. 



40 



15. 

Yet now the flush is over, let us think : 

Is Peace mere rest, and shall we feast and drink, 

Laugh and make merry, fling all care away, 

And live once more our idle holiday ? 

Alas ! 'twas so we tottered on the brink 

Of ruin — so came near to sink 
A fallen star, forever not to rise. 
Gird up thy loins, Laijd ; before thee lies 

Still many a hissing Wrong, 
That thou shalt set thy heel on till it dies . 
Thou suffered' St and wast strong, 
Be strong in thy release. Now comes the real, 
The terrible ordeal. 
Not in the press of arms, the fiery shock 
Of wars that beat upon thee as a rock, 
Against whose stubborn front the tireless sea 
Rears its embattled billows, backward flung, 
Forever and forever reared again ; — 
Not then, not then, 
When victory in the balance hung 
And trembled, trembled I for thee. 

My country. For I knew too well 
How at the stern, set beauty of thy face, 
And terror ot thy beautiful, blazing eye, 

Lit with the light of battle, and close, pale lips 
Imprisoning Pity, foes shrank back apace. 

And, losing heart, lost half the fight ere fell 

Thy vengeful arm, with ruin and eclipse. 
On all that ever faced thy battle cry. 
0, not in danger's midst is danger most, 

Most need of ready hand, true heart, quick eye. 
Full many a bark has 'scaped the iron coast 

Of wreck-fed Labrador, and the white fierce jaws 
Of ravenous breakers, clamoring with no pause 
From clamor and thirst for blood — hath shunned all these 
To perish in treacherous calm of tropic seas 

That smile a strumpet smile, and lure and lull 
With poisonous kisses into fatal ease, 

Even as the Syren's tuneful lips 
Were deadlier than the shining Cyclades. 
Death hath his quiver full 

Of shafts that such sweet, subtle venom tips. 
It slays us and we know not that we die. 
0, Land, beware ! 
Gird up thy loins anew. There comes a cry 
From cut waste places ; all the troubled air 
Is filled with prophet voices crying, "Beware ! 
Keep watch and ward, lest Death, the Ever-nigh, 
Smite through thy dreamful leisure, and thou die." 



41 



16. 

The sordid lust 
Of place and power, the cankering; rust 

That tarnished Honor's steel within the sheath ; 
The serpent greed that grovelled in the dust, 

And spawned in its own slime and fed on death ; 
The blind idolatry that made 
Its god of Self and worshipped unafraid : 
The social treason murdering trust ; 
The civic wreath 
Scorned in the struggle base for civic spoils ; 
The aimless apathy we miscalled life, 
Vacant of all high purpose, only rife 
With petty bickering and fraternal strife ; 
These were the sins that wound us in their toils, 
And dragged down Heaven in judgment ; Heaven is just. 
We sinned, w^e suffered, we repent. 
And praise our God that made His hand so light. 
Can we keep faith with Him? hold fast to right 
And sin no more ? The grand experiment 
Is worth grand effort; else blind Fortune foils 

Our grasp at happiness, our toil is vain, 
Peace but the idle vapor of a night, 

A figment of the brain, 
And War a Sisyphus-labor that recoils 

Forever in headlong ruin of futile pain. 

17. 

These are our brothers that we loved of yore : 

Shall Hate usurp for aye Love's vacant throne? 
Thsy sinned but suffered too — yea, suffered more 

Perchance than we : Wrath claimed them for his own. 
Lo ! Avhere he reigns 

O'er a broad realm of sterile plains 
And blackened roof-trees — skeletons gaunt and bare 

Of dead dear homes — their hearths made desolate 
With hol]ow-e3^ed Want and stony-lipped Despair, 

Sitting where Peace and Plenty erewhile sate. 

Ah ! yes, they suffered : only God can tell 

How much they suffered and how well. 
They are our kith and kin, 

And though they earned the wage of sin 
In most ungrudging measure of Death, 

They drained it without murmur, as became 

Kinsmen and coheirs of our fathers' fame. 
A frowning face 

Fate set towards them and blew a bitter breath, 
Yet could not bend them, an unbending race, 
That welcomed Death, so Death outstripped disgrace. 

6 



42 



Violent and rash and resolute in wrong, 
But noble, but our brothers, nowise base ; 

Even in error they won us, seeing them strong 
And terrible of hand against us raised 
In baitle, to praise them : spite ourselves we praised. 

And justly ; for one Mother bore us, one 
That wept to see us sundered, and shall write 
Their brave deeds on her heart in lines as white 
As love may make them in default of right 

Their vices are their own. 
Ephemeral, carrion for the vulture Hours ; 
Their virtues are their country's — hers and ours — 

The priceless and immortal heritage 
Wherewith she dowers 

A future and, so dowered, a better age. 
Thus, then, it stands : 
Shall we again strike clasp of brotherly hands, 

And set our fiiccs toward a Future vast — 

The dim Sangrail of all our errant Past? 
Or shall Ave hold ai)art, 
Hate smouldering still in every sullen heart 

For frantic Chance to fan into a lire 
Shall wrap the martyred land in fiercer blaze — 

Cain's sacrifice — till on her funeral pyre 
Freedom shall perish Avith our perished days ? 

18. 

Answer, my countrymen ! A million fates 
Hang on your answer, and sad Freedom waits, 

Panting and pale, her sword 
Scarce sheathed from battle, to hear the awful word 

That seals her doom. 
Ye built her temple: shall it be her tomb? 

Shall the fair promise of all foregone years 
I3e rapt into irrevocable gloom? 
0, weigh your answer ere you let it go ! 

The world's best hopes, the world's worst fears 

Tremble around you. Lo ! 
On cither dim horizon Spirits twin 
Attend your summons. In the shivering West. 
Black on the threshold of the night, 
The Spirit of wrath, the Spirit of sin, 
The Spirit of blight 
Uprears a lurid crest 

And balances for flight : 

While in the dawning far, 
Where on the forehead of the crowned Day 

Flashes the Orient star. 
Pluming her pinions for the downward way, 

Hovers the Spirit of light, 
The Spirit of love, the Spirit of sweet release. 
The Spirit of God, the holy Spirit of Peace ! 






m. 



HUGH CAPERTON, Esq. 



Ladies and Gentlemen : I beg the favor of your indulgent attention 
for a very few moments, during which I shall read to you a hastily pre- 
pared sketch of a distinguished scholar and an excellent Priest and Profes- 
sor, late of this institution, who, I doubt not, is either personally or by repu- 
tation favorably known to most of you, and to whose admirable life and charac- 
ter it may not be uninteresting briefly to recur. In'the constant and grateful 
recollections of my pupilage at old Greorgetown College, where I was, for 
upwards of four years, from the class of Second Rudiments to the period 
of graduation, the favored recipient of the unvaried though undeserved 
kindness of the Faculty and Brotherhood of this honored institution, there 
is one conspicuous personage always present — always prominent — always 
beloved. Who that was ever cotemporaneous with him at this beautiful 
seat of learning and piety does not remember with emotions of inexpressible 
pleasure. Father George Fenwick? What reminiscences of those halcyon 
days passed within the classic precincts of this venerable old University 
are not warmed and heightened by his all-pervading spirit? When does 
memory ever revive the delightful scenes of our collegiate career, that he 
is not inseparably linked with all that gave life and light and joyousness 
to those scenes? There he stands, with his impressive and unmistakable 
features, in all of his lineaments more nearly resembling the North Ameri- 
can Indian than the descendants of his own Saxon origin. His erect and 
manly figure, prominent cheek-bones, swarthy complexion and large, 
piercing black eyes, beaming with intelligence, fasten our attention, and 
mark him as a man of no ordinary character. I love to think of and talk 
about him, and discuss his merits. There was naught that was cold or re- 
pulsive, either in his appearance or his demeanor. On the contrary, there 
was such cordial salutation in his winning smile, such modest afta))ility of 
manner, frankness of expression and cheerfulness of tone, that one was 



44 

bound as if by a magic tie to the aflfections of his great, capacious heart. 
He won upon you from the very moment you ever saw him, and in all 
subsequent intercourse your captivity was but confirmed by his loving 
kindness and unfading sympathy. In fact, there was so much of direct- 
ness and such an absence of guile in his composition that any one could 
read him, and after a brief acquaintance it was impossible to resist the 
goodness, truth and sincerity of that frank, open and affidavit face. His 
talents, erudition and scholarship, improved by the best Italian culture of 
many years, earned for him and entitled him to the highest consideration. 
His ardent zeal in promoting the substantial interests of that old College 
which he might almost call the place of his nativity, his love of letters, of 
poetry, of music, (in which he excelled,) his genial hospitality, his ur- 
banity, his benign philosophy and uniform piety are all too well known to 
require an extended notice in this hasty sketch; for they rendered him 
distinguished amongst the many eminent of the wise and good men of this 
renowned institution. All who were intimately acquainted with him must 
have been deeply impressed with his honest zeal for learning and educa- 
tion, his glowing admiration of our great statesmen and orators of all par- 
ties, and his sterling and unquestioned patriotism. So thoroughly identi- 
fied was he with the celebration of our national holidays, that no public 
ceremonies at the College on the 22d of February and 4th of July were 
considered complete until the soul-stirring strains of ' * The Star Spangled 
Banner," from his full, rich and magnificent tenor, aroused the throbbing 
pulse of freedom, and filled each heart with patriotic fire and devotion. 
And yet, with all of his acknowledged attainments, he was as unpretend- 
ing as he was unobtrusive — as ready to impart instruction to the humblest 
as to hold debate with the most accomplished. But apart from these high 
intellectual qualities, his faculty for the management of individuals, his 
influence over others, his moral force, was his peculiar and distinctiye 
characteristic. The fascinating power, the refreshing beauty, the inefi"a- 
ble charm of his organization was the deep, pure, fresh and ever-flowing 
heart-fountain of sympathy with struggling and developing youth. It 
was strange how one of his years and avocations, highly-cultivated mind 
and fondness for classic lore, could so transfuse his spirit as to become 
identified and incorporated with all the thoughts and hopes, whims and 
sorrows, fancies and disappointments, and dreams and aspirations of un- 
reflecting and impetuous boyhood. As much as he partook of the merri- 
ment of animated youth did he sympathise with its crosses, and in many 
instances did his heart beat in unison with the alternate elevations and 
depressions of boyhood's sanguine and sensitive temperament. Though 
an earnest and consistent advocate for discipline and order, yet he was 
eminently consertative and just, and has been known in several instances 



45 

to adopt tiie troubles ot an unfortunate student who had become appd- 
rently amenable to authority, and to battle them through with a zeal and 
pertinacity that argued his deep conviction of innocence, or at least of 
great palliation of offence. The first time the author of these desultory ob- 
servations remembers distinctly to have had his attention directed to him 
was in the year 1837, not long after he had entered college. The good 
priest was passing out of the large northerly building, when he was sud- 
denly set upon with shouts of boyish delight by several urchins and two or 
three children of larger growth. Some were swinging around his neck, some 
were tugging at his cassock, one had his cap, and others secured his 
hands, and there was a lively scuffle, amidst the laughter and gleeful 
acclamations of everybody — spectators and actors. To this kind and 
single-hearted professor 'twas fun indeed, and I subsequently found that 
such playful encounters were of frequent occurrence. Who could help 
admiring his simplicity of nature and benignity of heart V He invited 
your friendly confidence, and it was never abused. In his affectionate 
regard there was no alloy. Never, whilst memory lasts or gratitude con- 
tinues to be a virtue, can the author of this poor tribute to the virtues of 
his generous friend forget the deep and abiding interest he manifested in 
his welfare. Especially does he dwell with pleasurable sensations, though 
tinged with melancholy, upon his connection and that of his classmates 
with their thoughtful and warm-hearted preceptor, during the last two 
years of their academic course, through the classes of Rhetoric and Philo- 
sophy. All that the most tender regard and paternal solicitude for our 
instruction and happiness could accomplish was unceasingly employed in 
our behalf. His tact was displayed in a consummate manner in stimu- 
lating us to the most faithful application and getting out of us the greatest 
amount of work. No unworthy motives were encouraged, no jealous 
rivalry inspired, and there was no want of individual esteem betweein us 
to be deplored. A laudable desire of improvement and an honest spirit 
of emulation were felt and cherished by us all. In addition to the zealous 
care bestowed on our scholastic exercises, partial kindnesses and valued 
favors were judiciously conferred. If, at any time, a ramble over the ad- 
jacent hills was suggested, the pleasure of the excursion could only be en- 
hanced by the presence of Father George. If a desire was expressed to 
visit either of the District cities a little oftener than the strict rule of the 
College required, permission was sure to be obtained, together with a more 
liberal supply of funds than the rigid weekly allowance of "an eleven- 
penny bit." Were there any lectures, discourses or exhibitions of an in- 
structive or agreeable nature to be given in the towns, his was the ready 
acquiescence in accompanying us to them, or permission to go by our- 
selves. We were big boys — in a high class — and therefore entitled to 



46 

more consideration and more privileges than the rest of the ' * brainless 
brats," as he laughingly denominated us nearly all! Alt these indul- 
gences and good will were held in high estimation by us. But the chief 
benefaction, the crowning favor, the inestimable boon, in our carnal and 
unpoetical judgments, was an eloquent appeal to our stomachs, in the 
never-failing treat that awaited us, in his room, on our way to the dormi- 
tory from late studies. The popularity of our friend amongst all classes 
and denominations was such that he was liberally supplied with voluntary 
contributions of all kinds of edibles, and he was too skillful a caterer ever 
to permit our larder, (for it was exclusively appropriated to the favored 
four,) to become exhausted. How the love of such reward sweetened our 
labors ! when the poetic images of Homer and Horace and Cicero were 
beautifully interblended with visions of sandwiches, and sardines, and 
oysters, and cold opossum, and roast fowl twirling before the Professor's 
cheerful fire with savory and appetizing odor ! Those were the real 
''Noctes Amhrosiance.^^ Never a partaker himself, his calm and de- 
lighted contemplation, from behind his fragrant cigar, of our enjoyment 
of the repast, only lent to it an additional relish. It apparently did him 
more good to look on than it did us to feast ; but we never could have 
made such a concession. He was full of kindness and geniality and 
humor, and fond of badinage. He was never moody or ill-tempered, and 
whilst he found pleasure in poking fun at others, he always took a repar- 
tee or retaliation in perfectly good part. So far from being stern and 
exacting, he was of a gentle and forgiving nature — none had more of the 
milk of human kindness. The author, once, with a friend since dead, 
poor, fellow ! a young poet of fine heart and brilliant promise, by the name 
of Lewis, but familiarly called "Wild Horse," slipped in the afternoon 
from the College bounds, and soon found his way to a country tavern in 
the neighborhood well known as the *' Students' Retreat" or the "bull's 
Inn." On our return to the walks we tarried near the spring at the 
further end of them, when one of us suggested that we should wait until 
the priests' bell rang for supper before we made a further advance. It so 
happened that Father Fenwick and the Rev. Father McSherry, then 
President of the College, were passing on the opposite side of the walks, 
and were hidden from our view by the summer foliage. Overhearing 
our conversation, they made a sudden descent upon us, to our great and 
pitiable consternation. Upon discovering the two exemi)lars of propriety 
at such an hour and place, they seemed as much mortified as we felt, and 
gently admonished us to get into bounds as soon as possible. None but boys 
in our predicament can imagine the tumult of our feelings. There we were, 
checked in the midst of stolen pleasure, cut down in the height of our feli- 
city, caught ''flagranti dtlictor Our hearts were too big for utterance. 



47 

"Silentl}^ and sad we 'toddled ' home, 

And spoke not a word of sorrow, 
Resolved to the Bull's Inn never to roam, 

And bitterly thought of the morrow !" 

The morrow came, and with it breathless anxiety. The excitement was 
intense, and our hearts throbbed with convulsive nervousness. The sus- 
pense seemed interminable, for it was not until the evening of the following 
day, when, with my face turned to the desk in the class-room, and unable 
to appreciate my studies, in consequence of the dread and ominous silence 
hitherto observed upon our case, I recognized Father George's deliberate 
footstpps approaching my position, and presently heard in a distinct whis- 
per meant only for myself, and without a single word of incjuiry or com- 
ment, "^Wild Horse, wait until those old priests go into supper." A 
mischievous and teasing perversion of our language, it is true, but it 
brought instant relief. Then was a great and oppressive weight taken 
oft" my mind, and I hailed in those whispering sounds the glad tidings of 
forbearance and forgiveness. Next came the history of our foraging 
expedition to the "Bull's Inn," and how we regaled ourselves on ham 
and eggs, damson preserves, and Newark cider — which we bought and 
drank for champagne — 'twas just as good. Our transgression was passed 
over kindly. But Father George never forgot upon meeting the author 
to wave his index finger and shake his head in a manner that all must 
certainly recollect, and exclaim — "Bull's Inn^ damson preserves^ and 
Newark cider." This is only one of a hundred examples that might be 
given of his mild and lenient disposition, by which he converted our very 
faults into arguments that made us ' ' grapple him to our soul with hooks 
of steel." There was always a sly humor lurking in his significant and 
expressive smile, and he would every now and then indulge his jocular 
fancy by assuming a mysterious air with reference to our movements and 
chuckling over our perplexity. Thus, if by accident, or through a little 
sportive precaution, he had acquainted himself with our visits and wander- 
ings in Washington or Georgetown, upon leave of absence, he would so 
adroitly bring the facts to our knowledge as to make us almost think — 
sometimes — he was the very devil himself. If he had been a very bad 
man instead of a very good one, and lived in latter times, what a dextrous 
detective he would have made. The darkest and most ingeniously con- 
cealed plottings of disloyalty would have been inevitably dragged to the 
public light : property deserving of instantaneous confiscation would have 
been infallibly recognized as if by patriotic inspiration : and Baker the 
peerless would have been eclipsed forever. Uncle Toby, as he was some- 
times familiarly called, would always have his joke and run his rigs on 
some one or other, but never in a rude, disagreeable or ofiensive manner. 



48 

As above stated in these notes, he took a retort courteous in good temper, 
and was never ruffled by amiable repartee. The writer of these remi- 
niscences once learned from him that the Sisters of the Visitation, with 
peculiar feminine suggestiveness, sent him a present, one day after he had 
been over at their convent, of a pair of razors and a shaving-brush and 
soap. Now when it is remembered that Father George, with all of his 
virtues, possessed to a remarkable degree the vis inertice — in other words 
that he was downright lazy (though never idle) — and that he often went 
unshaven for several days together, which gave him a sort of A^ulcan-like 
appearance, the entire propriety of the above-named present will be 
readily appreciated. This was too good for him to keep to himself. 
Therefore, whenever afterwards the writer would behold the aforesaid 
waving finger, and hear the old speech of the "Bull's Inn, damson pre- 
serves and Newark cider," he couldn't resist the temptation to cry out, 
with a similar gesture — alas! alas! Uncle Toby — " Shaving-brush, ra- 
zors and soap ;" and he would shake all over with laughing gratification. 
His oddness of conceit and drollery didn't desert him even in sickness. 
One day during the period of the notorious Know-nothing excitement, he 
was lying on his bed, a silent sufi"erer from severe indisposition. Suddenly 
a favorable wind wafted the tolling sound of one of the church bells in the 
lower part of Georgetown. Turning to the persons in his sick-chamber, 
and waving the inevitable fore-finger, he interrupted his long silence by 
saying, with the most ludicrous gravity, "Another Know-Nothing gone 
to the devil," and again composed himself for quiet rest. Thus he passed 
through life, 

"And kept the even tenor of his way," 

until his death, which occurred at the College in the month of November, 
1857, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. The last time I ever beheld his 
amiable countenance was shortly before his demise, and when he was de- 
prived of the power of articulation. There was electric virtue in his 
earnest and cordial pressure of my hand , and whilst the dying man was 
incapable of utterance, never can there be eff'aced from my memory those 
great, speaking, loving, eloquent eyes, and that benignant smile which 
appeared as a ray of light penetrating from the Home land to which he 
was rapidly tending, and "serenely adorning the calm eve of his life." 
Peace to his ashes ! But if perchance the reader of this imperfect review 
should feel that the incidents and traits of character noted in it are dwelt 
upon with anything like tedious prolixity, the author craves his generous 
indulgence, and pleads as an apology his fervent affection and profound 
veneration for his deceased friend and benefactor. 



iatlrolic ^[imi(B Ictomtt of i\]t mhhmim. 



The grand reunion of the Alumni of Georgetown College, 
under the auspices of the Philodemic Society, took place at the 
College, on Tuesday, July 2d, in accordance with previous an- 
nouncement. For some years past, the Philodemic Society has 
held its grand annual meetings on the anniversary of its foun- 
dation, January 17th, but that day having, for various reasons, 
been found inconvenient, it was decided last January to trans- 
fer the celebration to the day immediately preceding the an- 
nual commencement of the College. At the same time it was 
determined, in connection with the Faculty of the College, to 
hold a grand reunion of all the Alumni of the College on the 
day named. The location of the College at the seat of the 
General Government, and exactly midway between the North- 
ern and Southern sections of our country^ had, for many j^ears, 
united in a peculiar degree, upon the rolls of its students, the 
names of young men from all parts of the Union, and, conse- 
quently, its Alumni were especially affected by the separating 
influences of the late civil contest. It was, therefore, thouo^ht 
worthy of a special effort to gather back, on this occasion^ to 
their Alma Mater, as many as possible of her children, to strike 
hands anew amidst the blessed scenes of College life, to 
rekindle old friendships, bury animosities, if, perchance, such 
should have been engendered by the civil strife, and to go forth 
as in other years, a united band of brothers. To that end the 
officers of the Society, resident at the College, entered into a 
correspondence with the Alumni throughout the country, 
soliciting their presence and co-operation in the celebration. It 
was found that over six hundred names were on the list of ttose 
entitled to be present, of whom, however, one hundred and 
7 



50 

fifty are known to have passed from things, of earth and uncer- 
tainty of the fate of many others, especially in view of recent 
events, induces the fear that the list of the departed is much 
longer. As even in days happier than those from which we 
are now emerging, the toils and tempests of life would keep 
away many, whose hearts inclined them towards their College 
homes, so it was known that still more in the desolations 
which now afflict many sections of our country, too many, 
alas ! might have to deny themselves the pleasure of the 
reunion. But the large numher of letters received from those 
who could not come, evinced their great concern for and fervent 
co-operation in the celebration, and the appointed hour beheld, 
gathered at the College, an assemblage fully equalling ex- 
pectation. To say the meeting proved to be one of great 
interest, would most poorly describe it. To one not a partici- 
pator in the feelings evoked by the occasion, it would be indeed 
difficult to represent the warm greetings of the reception, the 
lively gratification at the literary exercises, and the deep 
enthusiasm of the social reunion. The public had been invited 
to the literary exercises, and a large audience had early filled 
the Exhibition Hall, in which they were to be held. The 
Alumni marched in a body to the hall, and occupied the spa- 
cious platform appropriated on Commencement Day to the Stu- 
dents of the College. In the temporary absence of the Presi- 
dent of the Philodemic, the chair was filled by John Carroll 
Brent, Esq., of Washington city, one of the early and leading 
graduates of the College, who has always taken a lively inter- 
est in the afiairs of the Philodemic Society. The orator origi- 
nally selected for the anniversary was Kichard T. Merrick, 
Esq., of Washington city, but his engagements as counsel in 
the Surratt trial having unexpectedly intervened to prevent his 
fulfillment of the festival duty, at a late day, the Hon. Alex- 
ander Dimitry, of New Orleans, a graduate of the class of 1817, 
kindly consented to meet, as well as he might, the emergency. 
The high reputation for scholarship of this distinguished gen- 
tleman, his well-known and versatile ability, as well as his 
efficiency, so ably displayed in the various positions of honor 
occupied by him, both in the domestic and foreign service of the 



51 

United States aad of his native State, gave assurance that he 
was in every way equal to the occasion. And most nobly did 
he fulftll expectation. We dare not flatter ourselves that we 
do even faint justice when we state, in the words of one present, 
that ^' his address was conceived and written with the best 
graces and fascinations of the most mature scholarship ; simple 
in diction, chaste and elegant in its imagery ; classic, tender 
and elevated from the beginning to the end." 

His discourse occupied an hour in delivery, and its principal 
theme was the portrayal of the real advantages of an education. 
As we are to have the pleasure of seeing this noble production 
in print, we will not attempt a recital of its conclusive argu- 
ments, thrilling language, and glowing imagery. It was cer- 
tainly a most triumphant vindication of the worth of that 
which alone raises man from the condition of a savage, and 
which is only depreciated by those who, possessing it not, feel 
not its priceless value. The respectful attention yielded to the 
opening of the address was soon heightened into a lively enthu- 
siasm, which evinced its approbation by tokens that the orators 
of old deemed the crowning guerdon of oratory, the tribute of 
sympathetic tears. 

Daniel A. Casserly, Esq., of New York city, a graduate of 
the class of 1862, and now connected with the ^^ Bound Table j" 
then proceeded to deliver the poem. It was, truly, a highly 
finished production, lyric in form, audit took by surprise those 
accustomed to the poetical efforts usual on anniversary occa- 
sions. The opening lines, pronounced by the sonorous voice of 
the author, stirred as the sound of a trumpet, and the true 
poetic fire which glowed throughout the piece warmed up the 
attention during the entire half hour of its delivery. The sub- 
ject was "War and Peace," and, although not treated in a 
vein calculated to give pleasure to all present, estranged as 
they had been in feelings during the late civil strife, it was 
certainly a high tribute to its polished and classic language and 
genuine poetic inspiration, that it elicited frequent applause 
even from those who might have wished its sentiments difier- 
ent. It is due to Mr. Casserly to say, that he kindly under- 
took to supply, on a few days' notice, the position which had 



52 

been accorded to another gentleman, prevented by sickness 
from being present ; and in offering for the entertainment a 
poem not es]3ecially prepared for the occasion, he proved in an 
eminent degree, not only his disposition to oblige, but the fer- 
tility of a genius ready at the instant call of his Alma MS-ter 
to do her honor. 

But the crowning feature of this delightful feast was the 
paper prepared and read by Hugh Caperton, Esq., of George- 
town, D. C, as a tribute to the memory of the late Father 
George Fen wick, a gifted and accomplished Professor of George- 
town College, who was born within the limits of the College, 
and died there in 1857, at the age of fifty-six years, after having 
devoted his life and great abilities to the promotion of litera- 
ture, science and virtue within those classic walls. The writer 
had been a favorite pupil of Father Fenwick, and portrayed 
his noble and saint-like character in a vein of mingled humor 
and pathos that took captive the ears and hearts of all. Sel- 
dom can it be our privilege to listen to such a loving and truth- 
ful delineation, and we know not whether most to envy the 
speaker the possession of such a friend, or the ability to render 
such justice and honor to his memory. 

The intervals between the exercises were enlivened by music 
from the College Band ; and after the conclusion of the literary 
entertainment, there was held a meeting of the Philodemic So- 
ciety for the transaction of business. This was private ; but 
there can be no impropriety in saying that delight at the grand 
success of the reunion just concluded found vent in fervent 
congratulations, and seemed to animate all with renewed zeal 
for the promotion of the prosperity of the society and the 
College. 

Next succeeded the more material feast of the day — the din- 
ner. Although imperative duty compelled some to leave im- 
mediately after the reading of the memoir, a procession compu- 
ted to number more than one hundred and fifty passed to the 
''boys' refectory," where the long tables spread with an abun- 
dant banquet awaited them. Father Maguire, the President 
of the College, presided. After invoking a blessing, the com- 
pany was seated, and it was then observed that, almost without 



53 

seeming concert, the members of the different graduating 
classes had managed to get together in renewal of their former 
assemblage around the same tables. The first sight that 
greeted the eye was the '^^bill of fare." This had been gotten 
up in classic style, and was headed by the following pleasing 
salutation : 

"Her children coming back to their boyhood's home, not with 
costly viands and courtly delicacies, but with the invigorating 
repast that made them lithe and strong of limb in their young, 
heroic days, old Georgetown welcomes !" 

"Think oft, ye brethren; 
Think of the gladness of our youthful prime — 
It Cometh now again, that golden time !" 

German StudenV s Song. 

To this, followed a list of viands and wines, which showed that 
the "invigorating repast" was something more than what is 
ordinarily understood by "College commons," for it compre- 
hended all the essentials of a first-class dinner. The name of 
each dish was followed by a quotation from Shakespeare, the 
appositeness of which evinced not a little taste and research. 
The solid part of the dinner was then duly appreciated. On 
the removal of the cloth Father Maguire arose, and with that 
cordiality of address, warmth of manner, and force of expres- 
sion, for which he is so remarkable, spoke of his great gratifi- 
cation at the presence of so many of the children of the Col- 
lege, and renewed publicly the cheering welcome which, during 
the day, he had privately extended to each comer. He spoke 
at some length, and with his usual felicity, of '^school-boy 
days," and the pleasant hours and scenes thereof, and hoped 
the happy reunion might be the beginning of a series of annual 
meetings of the Alumni and old students of the College. He 
mentioned the fact that just fifty years had elapsed since the 
first class had graduated at Georgetown, and although the idea 
of the celebration had originated without reference to this cir- 
cumstance, no less interest would attach to it from its being the 
semi-centennial anniversary. He concluded by remarking that 
as his first task had been to welcome those present, his next 
should be the recollection of those who had been unable to 



54 

attend, and he therefore proposed the health of the absent 
Alumni and members of the Philodemic Society. After due 
honor had been done to the toast, Father Maguire said that in 
that connection he would call on Mr. Hoffman, the chairman 
of the committee of invitation, who had in charge the cor- 
respondence pertaining thereto. 

Mr. Hoffman made some interesting statements in regard to 
the number of the Alumni and members of the ISociety, the list 
of the departed, and other facts developed by the correspond- 
ence. He mentioned that he had received a very large number 
of letters of a highly interesting character from those whose 
engagements had prevented them from being present, all 
breathing fervent wishes for the success of the celebration; and 
as, in conformity with the request of the circular of invitation, 
each of these letters contained a sentiment for the consideration 
of the festival, he had, the night before, arranged the toasts 
and letters in order to read them at the dinner. But it hap- 
pened that very many who did not come in person, in the hope, 
perhaps, of being able to do so, deferred their replies until the 
last moment, and hence he had received a large package of let- 
ters that morning which he had barely time to read, and a 
still larger package came by the mail at noon, which had not 
yet even been opened. Under these circumstances he had 
deemed it wiser not to read the letters and sentiments on that 
occasion, as all, though equally deserving of attention, could 
not possibly receive it. He had, therefore, resolved to have 
them placed in such a form as to make them accessible to all 
the members, which was understood to be their publication in 
due time, along with the oration, the memoir and the poem. 
He also desired to state that in compliance with another request 
of the circular of invitation, nearly all the letters of reply con- 
tained the photographs of their writers, endorsed as desired; 
that most of the gentlemen present had already given in theirs 
also, and he therefore hoped that those who had as yet ne- 
glected the matter would likewise comply as soon as possible, as 
an album had been prepared for the reception of the photo- 
graphs, and he was happy to be able to say that this promised 
to be one of the most successful features of the celebration. 



55 

He then read one letter, as it was from a member of the first 
graduating class of the College in the year 1817. It was a 
warm-hearted letter, giving an account of the condition of the 
College at the time the writer was a student there, and also the 
names of the professors and many of the students of the time, all 
of whom, as far as known, have departed, except the venerable 
Father John McElroy, who was then Treasurer of the College. 
The writer was a native of England, and came to the College 
from New York city, where his father then resided, but he 
subsequently settled in the South, and for many years has 
been a banker at Augusta, Ga. A call was made for the reading 
of a letter understood to have been received from General Lee. 
It was his response to the invitation extended hira as a mem- 
ber of the Philodemic, expressing his friendly greeting to the 
members, and his warm wishes for the success of the festival. 
This letter had been addressed to Rev. James Clarke, President 
of the Society, as Father C. had been the GeneraFs classmate, 
having graduated at the same time with him at West Point. 
Calls were made for Father Clarke, but he being absent. Father 
Maguire asked for the reading of at least one of the sentiments 
of the absent members in response to the toast in their honor. 
Mr. Hoffman expressed his gratification that the first one on 
which his eye rested should be so appropriate. It was the sen- 
timent of Robert Ray, Esq., of Monroe, La. ^^The Jesuit So- 
ciety, Followers of Jesus, Teachers of Youth! Their schools 
inspire a veneration for the Christian Religion, and a high es- 
teem for our Republican Form of Government." Father Ma- 
guire then proposed, as next in order, the health of the orator, 
poet, and biographer of the day, which was honored and re- 
sponded to in turn by each of those gentlemen. The senti- 
ments and remarks then became more informal, and for a lonsr 
time engaged and delighted the company. Conspicuous among 
the good things elicited was the recitation of a brief poem by 
Charles B. Kenny, Esq., of Pittsburg, Pa., as an embodiment 
of the sentiments suggested by the reunion; a most amusing 
medley of German and English in a song, by James D. Dough- 
erty, of Harrisburg, Pa., and a neat and eloquent speech from 
R. R. Crawford, Esq., ex-Mayor of Georgetown, picturing the 



56 

reverses which had visited the College during the war, and de- 
scribing with exultation its rapid recuperation to the point of 
its former prosperity now already attained. Many other gen- 
tlemen entertained the company with their eloquence and wit, 
and thus the hours wore pleasantly away until the approach of 
night suggested the closing exercises. Appended to the bill of 
fare was a song written for the occasion and arranged to the 
tune of ^'Auld Lang Syne." The entire company arose, and 
with united voice and swelling hearts fervently sang the words 
which will long be recollected as the closing scene of this rare 
and memorable reunion of the students of Georgetown College. 






IJjer {ghildr^n^ coming bach ta their Bayhaod^s l^ame^ 

^oi zu'ith costly viands and courtly d.elicacies , hut voith the 

invigorating' repast that r)iade them lithe and^ 

strong of linnh in their young, heroic days, 



Think oft, ye brethren ; 
Think of the gladness of our youthful prime — 
It conaeth now again, that golden time! 

German Students Song. 



Soup St. Julian. 

" Expect spoon-meat.'" 

Brisket Beef. 

" Chief iiourislicr iu life's feast." 

Boiled ChickeDS with Oyster Sauce. 

" You wonld eat chickens iu the shell." 

Smoked Tongue. 

" This is the vein which makes flesh a deity." 

Sliced Ham. 

" I should time expend with such a slice." 

Roast Beef. 

" Daylight aud champagne discover not better." 

Veal Sweetbread. 

"Veal," quoth the Dutchiuau. "is not veal a calfy" 



58 
New Potatoes. 

Let the Bky rain potatoes." "From the still vexed BermoothcB. 

Asparagus. 

''A green goddess." 

Green Peas. 

" I had rather have a handful or two of pease." 

Maryland Lettuce. 

"We may pick a thousand salads, 
Ere vv^e light on such another herb." 

Beets, Cucumbers, Tomatoes. 

"Will do well in such a shift." 

French Olives. 

" To thee the heavens adjudge the olive." 

College Pies, Cakes, &c. 

" The fruits are to ensue." 
"And any pretty, little, tiny kickshaws." 

Tutti-Frutti Ice Cream. 

" Tut, tut, thoii art all ice, thy kindness freezes." 

Kaisins, Prunes, Oranges, Nuts, &c. 

" Your pounds of prunes, and as many raisins of the sun." 

" Give this orange to your friend." 

"And fetch the new nuts." 

" The fig of Spain, very good." 

Wines, &c. 

" Go, fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in it.' 



MQ)mm&w ^M M^m^^ 



I. 

There is not in this wide world a viand so sweet, 
As the hash that's concocted of all sorts of meat : 
Oh ! the comb with its honey'll be bitter and tart, 
Ere the taste of that hash from mj mouth shall depart. 

II. 

Yel it was not that JJcrks had spread o'er the dish 
The sauces of Soyer, or lobster, or fish ; 
'Twas not the vile gravy we every day swill ; 
Oh ! no, it was something more exquisite still. 

* Hash— a sine qva non of the College breakfast table. 



59 



ITl. 

'Twas onions, delight of my stomach, I found 
In plenteous abundance were swimming around ; 
And I felt how the best kind of hash may improve, 
When to onions is added a taste of the clove. 

IV. 

Sweet hash of old Georgetown ! how calm could I rest, 
With a dose of that mixture inside of my vest ! 
No nightmare approaches, disturbing one's peace, 
As after a supper of canvass-back geese. 

V. 

The Romans might boast of their nightingale brains, 
And tongues of the peacock, and gizzards of cranes ; 
The Chinese may gobble their rats and their mice, 
And imagine these vermin exceedingly nice ; 

VI. 

The Dutchman may swallow his lager and kraut — \ 
The Russian his candle, quite pleasant no doubt — 
But in my estimation such tit-bits are trash, 
When compared with a dishful of onions and hash. 



soNa. 

(Written for the occasion, to be suug by the whole Company.) 
I. 

Should old acquaintance be forgot, 

And never brought to mind? 
Should old acquaintance be forgot. 
And the days of auld lang syne? 
Chorus : — 
For days of auld lang syne, my friends, 

For days of auld lang syne, 
We'll speak a word of kindness yet, 
For days of auld lang syne. 

II. 

In boyhood days we oft have met 

Around this hallow' d shrine: 
Tho' years have pass'd, we ne'er forget 

Those hours of auld lang syne. 
Chorus : — Those hours, &c. 



60 



III. 

Since then we've seen both time and war 
With ruthless hand combine. 

To sever wide and scatter far 
The friends of auld lang syne. 
Chorus: — The friends, &c. 

IV. 

And even 'neath this peaceful shade, 
Grim Mars, with fierce design, 

Did dare to enter and invade 
Our home of auld lang syne. 
Chorus: — Our home, &c. 

V. 

But now 'tis over, and once more 

Our yearning hearts incline 
Our steps from many a distant shore, 

Towards scenes of auld lang syne. 
Chorus: — Towards scenes, &c. 

VI. 

And as in days of youthful joys, 
Our hands once more entwine — 

We see the face, we hear the voice 
Of happy auld lang syne. 
Chorus: — Of happy, &c. 

VII. 

But whilst we greet with glowing heart. 

Let memory enshrine 
The many absent, who are part 

Of days of auld lang syne. 
Chorus: — Of days, &c. 

VIII. 

Then, ere we sever, let us raise 

One fervent cup of wine, 
In mem'ry of the happy days 

And friends of auld lang syne. 
Chorus: — And friends, &c. 



oil the iinmion at |)Coit9etouin ^olk^jge, 



J-CTL^S- S, 186'^. 



^Y OHfiliLEQ i?. KEJ^JSfY. 



Alma Mater, our love, without censure or stain, 

Behold in thy bosom thy children again ! 

From the great world of passion, of grasping and strife, 

We come with the scars of the battle of life ; 

We come to affirm, with the judgment of men, 

The lessons of youth you enjoined on us then ; 

And gratefully prove the aflfection and pride 

That in sons of a noble old mother abide. 

No Phiethon here with a querulous tongue, 

And soul with distrust and uncertainty stung, 

To charge, with a brow where opprobrium rests, 

That his thought-life was drawn from adulterate breasts, 

And dare to control, whilst authority chides, 

The radiant car that intelligence guides — 

No Renau or Colenso, with impious pen, 

To wound our old faith in the Savior of men, 

And drive a god's car, with presumptuous soul, 

In a purposeless flight without beacon or goal, 

Till prone from the wrath of Omnipotence hurled, 

With ruin and wreck to himself and the world. 

But thy teachings, good mother, one maxim imply — 

"For God and our country to live or to die." 

brothers ! may never His footstool again 

See the Demon of Discord so cruelly reign ; 

May the land that we love, and the nations applaud, 

No more feel the scourge of the justice of God ! 

No more, till the last of mortality's flood, 

May brothers lie crimsoned with mutual blood ! 

That is past— and the angel of peace has returned 

Where "the fire-shower of ruin" remorselessly burned ; 

Arts, commerce and science, like sunbeams, relume 

The scenes that Maus pall'd with his deadliest gloom ; 

Now olive-crowned Clio exults in her wreath, 

And Melpomone's dagger is red in its sheath. 



62 



The Jove-fathered sisters smile sweetly serene — 

But their mother still weeps for the days that have been. 

Oh ! how priceless are now the firm friendships of youth, 

That spring from its candor, its fervor and truth ; 

How sweet to unite where fond memories rest, 

And feel the old throb of our mother's warm breast • 

Where mingled love's ties that no fortune could chill. 

And the horrors since witness' d make tenderer still I 

Though diverse in fortune, faith, climate and race, 

Our bosoms are one io our mother's embrace ; 

They are one till remembrance and life shall depart, 

And charity dwell in no Catholic heart. 

Here the sons of the old Philodemic renew 

The friendships young life to its confidence drew ; 

Here they pledge their old love to their cherishing mother, 

To be true to her teaching and true to each other ; 

Thus may mother and children, in unison still, 

For God and our country their mission fulfill, 

And long may His love, in true brotherhood, save 

The land of the free and the home of the brave ! 



]VIr. Barber's Letter. 

Augusta, Ga., June 21, 186*7. 
Reverend and Dear Sir : 

I have before me a copy of your circular of April 15, addressed 
to the former students of Georgetown College. It would give me great pleasure to 
attend the Celebration on the 2d July next, but confinement to a sick bed will ren- 
der that impossible. Although not a member of the Philodemic Society, as no such 
society existed during my connection with the College, I send you my photograph 
as requested, and proceed to give you a few memoranda concerning myself, which I 
trust may not prove uninteresting, most especially should there be at your Celebra- 
tion any who were students at the same time with myself. I have to trust entirely 
to memory, having no written memoranda to guide me, and after the lapse of so 
many years, it may not be surprising if I am sometimes incorrect as to dates. I 
entered Georgetown College some time during the year 1814 : I had been a student 
at the ''New York Literary Institution," presided over by the Rev. Benedict Fen- 
wick, afterwards Bishop of Boston, assisted by Prof. James Wallace, (afterwards 
Reverend.) Upon the closing of that institution I went to Georgetown accom- 
panied by Prof. Wallace, and some other students, among whom I recollect 
Charles and George Dinies, Henry Riley, Dennis Doyle, and Skiddy. 

Rev. John Grassi was President of the College, and James Wallace Professor of 
Mathematics. 

The principal teachers were Thomas Downing, John Kelley, and James Murphy- 
Mr. John McElroy (now Reverend) was Procurator of the College. James Rider 
was my class-mate, and among my fellow-students were George Fenwick, Charles 
C. Pise, and Thomas Mullady. 

I was at the College w'hen the British troops entered Washington, and I witnessed 
the destruction of the public buildings. Some time after the close of the war Mr. 
Baxter (afterwards Reverend) came from Stonehurst, England, and became a 
Professor in the College. Classes were re-arranged and I became one of the Senior 
Class, together with Charles and George Dinies, Edward Bergh, of New York 
and Stephen Henry Gough, of Port Tobacco, Md. 

This was the first class which graduated. I went to New York, where my parents 
resided, for a short visit, intending to return immediately to complete my course of 
studies, but was prevented by the sudden death of my father ; I therefore did not 
receive my diploma with the other members of the class. 

Previous to the formation of this class, Mr. Rider, Mr Pise and Mr. G. Fenwick 
had enteied their novitiate, or gone to Rome. I think I left the College in 1817 
when Rev. Benedict Fenwick became President, which will give you the precise 
date, if I am in error. 

After a residence of some years in New York, Charleston, S, C, and Columbia, 
S. C, I settled in this city, fifteen years ago, and am the senior of the firm of F. C, 



64 

Barber k Son, Bankers and Brokers. These few memoranda, hastily thrown 
together, I feel are very imperfect, as I have been for some months confined to a bed 
of sickness and great suffering ; but I could not deny myself the pleasure of noticing 
your kind invitation. 

I hare the honor, dear sir, to be. 

Most respectfully, 

Your obedient servant, 

FREDERICK C. BARBER. 
Rev. B. a. Maguire, Georgduivn College^ D. C. 



'' Eloqueniia Lihertati (T)evinota." 



LIST OF MEMBERS 



jjltilatlmiii 



lad^tg of Iwgetauin lolleje, jj. |. 



IlE8I(I)EJ^T JVTEJVr^EIlS. 



CHARLES S. ABELL, Maryland. 
WALTEE R. ABELL, Maryland. 
GABRIEL BUSTAMENTI, Mexico. 
JOHN CLEVELAND, South Carolina. 
N. CALVIN COLLIER, Georgia. 
MICHAEL E. GRIFFIN, Connecticut. 
WILLIAM A. HAMMOND, Virginia. 



PRANK C. KIECKHOEFER, D. C. 
D. CLINTON LYLES, Maryland. 
STEPHEN R. MALLORY, Florida. 
WILLIAM O'BRIEN, New York. 
LOUIS C. PUEBLA, Mexico. 
HENRY A. SEYFERT, Pennsylvania. 
WILLIAM J. NICHOLSON, D. C. 






Rev. SAMUEL A. MULLEDY, Virginia. 
EUGENE A. LYNCH, Maryland. 
JOHN C. BRENT, Dist. Columbia. 
GEORGE BRENT, Maryland. 
Rev. WILLIAM F. CLARKE, Baltimore. 
REUBEN CLEARY, Louisiana. 
DANIEL C. DIGGES, Maryland. 
Rev. GEORGE FENWICK, Maes. 
Maj. ED. FITZGERALD, U. S. A. 
BENJ. R. FLOYD, Virginia. 
E. M. MILLARD, Louisiana. 
Rev. CHAS. H. STONESTREET, Md. 
JAMES McSHERRY, Virginia. 
THOS. H. KENNEDY, Louisiana. 
DANIEL J. DESMOND, Pennsylvania. 
LEWIS W. JENKINS, Maryland. 
WILLIAM GWYN, Maryland. 
S. H. GOUGH, Maryland. 
EDWARD A, LYNCH, Maryland. 



W. R. GREEN, Dist. Columbia. 
Hon. ALEX. DIMITRY, Louisiana. 
Hon. CHAS. J. FAULKNER, Virginia. 
Hon. SOLO HILLEN, Maryland. 
Rev. C. CONSTANTINE PISE, D. D. 
Dr. ELCON A. JONES, D. C. 
R. D. CUTTS, District of Columbia. 
Rev. ED. A. HASTINGS, Georgetown Col- 
lege, District ot Columbia. 
EDWARD DOYLE, New York. 
Dr. P. H. HAMILTON, Maryland. 
WILLIAM R. HARDING, Maryland. 
NICHOLAS STONESTREET, Maryland. 
THOMAS PRESTON, Virginia. 
P. PEMBERTON MORRIS, Pennsylvania. 
Rev. THOS. M. JENKINS, Maryland. 
Rev. JOHN M. AIKEN, Tennessee. 
LAURANT J. SEGUR, Louisiana. 
PETER E. BONFORD, Virginia, 



66 



aRADUATKS-Continued. 



HENRY H. H. STRAWBRIDGE, La. 
JOHN T. DOYLE, New York. 
Prof. J. A. RITCHE, M. D., D. C. 
Dr. JAMES T. LAPHEN, D. C. 
Lieut. JULIUS GARASCHE, U. S. A. 
GEORGE CUYLER, Georgia. 
J. H. FRENCH, Virginia. 
ROBERT FORD, Maryland. 
BEN. E. GREEN, Diet. Columbia. 
OLIVER A. LUCCETT, Georgia. 
JOSHUA NICHOLAS, Dist. Columbia. 
ANDREW V. VANEL, Louisiana. 
WILLIAM H. LEWIS, Tennesee. 
Capt. WM. S. WALKER, Mississippi. 
THOS. R. JENKINS, MaryJand. 
JOHN H. O'NEAL, Ohio. 
JOHN M. HEARD, Maryland. 
HENRY J. LANG, Georgia, 
GEORGE B. CLARKE, Baltimore. 
JOSEPH JOHNSON, Mississippi. 
Hon. T. J. SEMMES, New Orleans, La. 
JAMES P. EDMONSON, Virginia. 
JAMES H. BEVANS, Maryland. 
WILLIAM M. BRADFORD, Georgia. 
Rev. SAMUEL L. LILLY, S. J., Pa. 
JOHN C. THOMPSON, Georsia. 
Rev. W. D. McSHERRY, Virginia. 
JOHN L. KIRKPATRICK, Georgia. 
EUGENE COMMISKY, Maryland. 
EDWARD DONNELLY, New York. 
RICHARD H. CLARKE, D. C. 
JAMES A. EIGLHART, Maryland. 
WILLIAM BIERD, Georgia. 
WALTER S. COX, Dist. Colombia. 
FRANCIS H. DYKERS, New York. 
JOHN W. ARCHER, Virginia. 
ROBERT E. DOYLE, New York. 
JOHN E. WILSON, Maryland. 
PROSPER R. LANDRY, Louisiana. 
ELIEL S. WILSON, Maryland. 
L. T. BRIEN, Maryland. 
Hon. WILLIAM P. BROOKE, Md. 
NICHOLAS KNIGHTON, Maryland. 
GEORGE MARSHALL, Tennessee. 
WALDEMAR de BODISCO, Russia. 
Di. A, J. SEMMES, District of Columbia. 



EOLEVIRA ANDREWS, Virginia. 
JOHN. C. LONGSTRETH, Pennsylvania. 
JAMES H. DONEGAN, Alabama. 
CBARLES de BLANC, Louisiana. 
EDMUND RUEL SMITH. New York. 
HENRY J. FORSTALL, Louisiana. 
ALEXANDER A. ALLEMONG, S. C. 
Dr. JNO. C. RILEY, Dist. of Columbia. 
BERNARD G. CAULFIELD, Dist, of Col. 
LOUIS V. LANDRY, Louisiana. 
CASIMER G. DESSAULES, L. Canada. 
EDMUND L. SMITH, Pennsylvania. 
EDMUND DESLONDE, Louisiana. 
PIERRE D. D. DELACROIX, Louisiana. 
Dr. ALFONSO T. SEMMES, Miss. 
Dr. ADRIAN B. LEPRETE, Louisiana. 
J. WILLIE RICE, Maryland. 
RICHARD H. BRYAN, Maryland. 
LOUIS DECOUTEULX, New York. 
F. MATHEWS LANCASTER, Maryland. 
LAFAYETTE J. CARRIEL, Louisiana. 
CLARKE KOONTZ, Maryland. 
WILLIAM X. WILLIS, Maryland. 
JOHN C. C. HAMILTON, D. C. 
DOMINICK A. O'BRYAN, Georgia. 
EDWIN F. KING, District of Columbia. 
ROBERT. W. HARPER, Maryland. 
THOMAS B. KING, District of Columbia. 
JOHN KING, District of Columbia. 
JULIUS A. CHOPPIN, Louisiana. 
JOHN K. GLEESON, Louisiana. 
HENRY W. BRENDT, Maryland. 
JOUN W. GRAHAM, Virginia. 
ENOCH M. LOWE, Virginia. 
EDWARD DESLONDE, Louisiana. 
ORLANDO BROWN, Tennessee. 
WILLIAM J. BOARMAN, Maryland. 
WILFRED B. FETTEKMAN, Pennsylvania. 
THOMAJS B. BOONE, District of Columbia. 
JESSE F. CLEVELAND, South Carolina. 
WILLIAM M. SMITH, Pennsylvania. 
WILLIAM H. DUNCAN, Alabama. 
BENEDICT J. SEMMES, Maryland. 
PETER McGARY, Virginia. 
JOSEPH P. CALLANEN, New York. 
JAMES P. DONNELLY, New York. 



67 



GKADIJATKS- Continued. 



P. C. LAROCHE, Pennsylvania. 

FRANCIS CONLY, Massachusetts. 

FRANCIS W. BABY, Canada. 

GEORGE W. FULMER,Dist. of Columbia. 

ROBERT RAY, Louisiana. 

JULES D. la CROIX, Louisiana, 

HARVEY BAWTREE, Vermont. 

JOSEPH H. BLANDFORD, Maryland. 

WILSON J. WALTHALL. 

DUGENE LONGUEMARE. 

JOHN J. BEALL. 

FREDERICK SMITH. 

J. CLEVELAND. 

G. ARCAND. 

L. BARGY, District of Columbia. 

W. H. GWYNN. 

E. M. TAUZIN, Louisiana. 

R. C. COMBS, Maryland. 

A. H. LOUGHBOROUGH, Dist. of Columbia 

L. L. ARMANT, Louisiana. 

R. H. GARDINER, Maryland. 

A. BECNEL, Louisiana. 

H. GASTON, Louisiana. 

ALFRED P. HULLIHEN. 

MANFRED F. HULLIHEN. 

EDMUND ZANE. 

EDWARD WILCOX. 

JAMES SPELLISSY. 

JOHN F. CALLAN, District of Columbia. 

JOHN REICKLEMAN. 

HENRY BOWLING, Maryland. 

WILLIAM CHOICE, South Carolina. 

W. J. HILL, Maryland. 

E. ROST, Louisiana. 

E. DIGGES, Maryland. 

F. A. LANCASTER, Pennsylvania. 
W. N. SANDERS, Maryland. 

M. GARCIA de ZUNIQA, Uraguay. 

C. A. HOYT, New York. 

J. D. DOUGHERTY, Pennsylvania. 

N. S. HILL, Maryland. 

C. J. O'FLYNN, Maryland. 

C. B. KENNEY, Pennsylvania. 

C. C. MAGRUDER, Maryland. 

SAMUEL A. ROBINSON, Dist. of Columbia. 

JAMES A. WISE, District of Columbia. 



EDWARD WOOTTON, Maryland. 
JAMES F. Mclaughlin, Virginia. 
HENRY W. CLAGETT. 
BEVERLY C. KENNEDY, Louisiana. 
ROBERT F. LOVELACE, Louisiana. 
PHILIP A. MADAN, Cuba. 
JAMES O. MARTIN, Louisiana. 
JAMES P. NEALE, Maryland. 
FRANCIS X. WARD, Maryland. 
ROBERT Y. BROWN, Miss. 
PAUL BOSSIER, Louisiana. 
PLACIDE BOSSIER, Louisiana. 
P. S. BRAND, Louisiana. 
L. A. BUARD, Louisiana. 
JOHN B. GARDINER, Maryland. 
JOHN W. KIDWELL, D. C. 
CLEMENT S. LANCASTER, Peun. 
JOHN P. MARSHALL, Maryland. 
. A, W. NEALE, Maryland. 
ANATOLE LANDRY, Louisiana. 
MICHAEL A. STRONG, Pennsylvania. 
FRANK RUDD, Virginia. 
GABRIEL A. TOURNET, La. 
LASSALINE P. BRIANT, La. 
W. S. SNOW, New York. 
WILLIAM H. BARRETT, Georgia. 
ISAAC PAISONS, Va. 
W. BERESFORD CAIR, La. 
DANIEL A. CASSERLY, N. Y. 
P. A. LAMBERT, D. C. 
WALTER S. McFARLAN, D. C. 
JOHN M. K. DAVIS, D. C. 
JOHN D. O'BRYAN, Pa. 
HENRY L. McCULLOUGH, Pa. 
WILLIAM L. WIRST, Pa. 
THOMAS M. HENAN, New Grenada. 
R. ROSS PERRY, D. C. 
CUPRIANO ZEGANA, Penn. 
HENRY MAJOR, D. C. 
JOSEPH A. RICE, La. 
VUGIL F. DOMURGUES, Cuba. 
CHAS. L. HEISMAN, Pa. 
DANIEL H. LAFFERTY, Pa. 

J. P. Mcelroy, n. y. 

J. H. MURPHY, N. Y. 
EDWARD S. REILY, Pa. 



68 



ORADUATES-Coialiiiued. 



W. F. WILLIAMS, D. C. 
G. S. KUDD, Ky. 
W. TAZWELL FOX, Va. 
J. T. FITZPATKICK, Ala. 
JOSEPH FOREST, D. C. 
F. P. S. LAFFERTY, Pa. 
J NO. C. WILSON, D. C. 
L. P. GOULEY, N. Y. 
EDWARD McCAHILL, N. Y. 



R. M. DOUGLASS, Illinois. 
SAMUEL H. ANDERSON, Md. 
ARTHUR LEE, Md. 
GEORGE H. FOX, N. Y. 
JUAN H. PIZZINI, Va. 
MICHAEL HALL, Ireland. 
C. C. HOMER, Md. 
BLADEN FORREST, D. C. 
HUGH CAPERTON, D C. 



SUB-ORADUATES. 



JOHN H. HUNTER, Maryland. 
JOHN H. DIGGES, Maryland. 
JOHN R. BROOKE, Maryland. 
JOHN D. K. CASHEN, Florida. 
GEORGE A. DIGGES. Maryland. 
THOMAS T. GANTT, Maryland. 
T. S. LEE HORSEY, Delaware. 
HENRY HUNTER, Maryland. 
JOHN S. HURST, Virginia. 
JOSEPH JENKINS, Maryland. 
R. H. LIVINGSTON, New York. 
EDWARD C. PRESTON, Virginia. 
ANDREW K. SANDERS, Virginia. 
BENJAMIN SMITH, Louisiana. 
CHARLES SMITH, Louisiana. 
RICHARD N. SNOWDEN, Maryland. 
JAMES STEWART, Virginia. 
F. W. THORNTON, Virginia. 
W. R. TURNER, District Columbia. 
THOMAS MATHEWS, Maryland. 
Rev. J. J. BALFE, Pennsylvania. 
JAMES HOLLIHAN, Pennsylvania. 
FRANKLIN K. BECK, Alabama. 
RICHARD B. LLOYD, Dist. Columbia. 
WILLIAM H. DUNKINSON, Md. 
J. ARISTIDE LANDRY, Louisiana. 
WILLIAM A. LENOX, District Columbia. 
WILLIAM MATHEWS MERRICK, Md. 
LEWIS F. BUNDY, Louisiana. 
ADAM WIEAVER, Vireinia, 
EDMUND MENARD, Illinois. 
WILLIAM D. DIGGES, Maryland. 
JAMES FAYE, District Columbia. 
GEORGE R. C. FLOYD, Virginia. 



BEN. J. BORDEN, Upper Canada. 
WILLIAM D. WILLIS, Virginia. 
JOSEPH HOBAN, District Columbia. 
Rev. HEiNRY HOBAN, District Columbia. 
HENRY QUEEN, District Columbia. 
WALTER MEADE THOMPSON, Md. 
EDMUND J. PLOWDEN, Maryland. 
NICHOLAS DIMITRY, Louisiana. 
MICHAEL F. RODDY, South Carolina. 
WILLIAM J. BERRY, District Columbia. 
Dr. JOHN JACKSON, Virginia. 
Col. THOMAS A. MAG DIRE, Penn. 
Rev. JOHN A. McGUIAN, Penn. 
C. B. KIERNAN, Alabama. 
ONESIME GUIDRY, Louisiana. 
THOMAS B. MULLEN, Pennsylvania. 
JONATHAN BUTCHER, D. Columbia. 
THOMAS RICHIE, Virginia. 
JAMES O'REILLY, District Columbia. 
JOSEPH R. PEARSON, District Columbia. 
W. H. WARD, District Columbia. 
P. A. LAMOTHE, Lower Canada. 
Dr. JAMES A. HIGGINS, Maryland. 
THOMAS J. HUNGERFORD, Virginia. 
FLEMING GARDNER, Virginia. 
GEORGE T. ANDREWS, East Florida. 
ADONIS PETIT, Louisiana. 
Col. W. W. LORING, U. S. A., Florida, 
THOMAS J. CALLAHAN, Ireland. 
R. M. LUSHER, South Carolina. 
LYCURGUS C. VALDENER, Maryland. 
RICHARD H. HAGNER, District Columbia. 
JOHN G. PEYTON, Virginia. 
GEORGE K. C. PRICE, Virginia. 



69 



SUB- OR AD U ATES-Continiaed. 



JOSEPH G. CHEVALIE, Virginia. 
DAVID WADE, Virginia. 
WILLIAM H. FITZHUGH, Virginia. 
R. B. GOOCH, Virginia. 
Hon. HENRY A. EDMONSON, Virginia. 
WILLIAM MITCHELL, Maryland. 
NICHOLAS E. CLEARY, Virginia. 
Dr. WILLIAM J. DIGGES, Maryland. 
Dr. EDWARD A. PYE, Maryland. 
TOBIAS T. DURNEY, Pennsylvania. 
JOHN H. C. MUDD, Maryland. 
MICHAEL WALLACE, Virginia. 
JOSEPH W. KENT, Virginia. 
IGN. A. LANCASTER, District Columbia. 
O. A. RENTHROP, Louisiana. 
LINDSEY C. WARREN, Georgia. 
WILLIAM C. TAYLOR, Missouri. 
Dr. ALEXIS C. GUIDRY, Louisiana. 
ROBERT P. KENNY, Virginia. 
WINFIELD S. GIBSON, Mississippi. 
H. CARRINGTON WATKINS, Virginia. 
JOHN W. TONGUE, District Columbia. 
DANIEL W. ADAMS, Mississippi. 
W. H. CAMPBELL, Georgia. 
ZEISfON LEDOUX, Louisiana. 
SAMUEL B. GRAHAM. South Carolina. 
VIRGINIUS NEWTON, Virginia, 
D. BRENT, Maryland. 
CONSTANTINE DOYLE, Nova Scotia. 
FRANCIS KERNAN, New York. 
R. U. HYATT, District Columbia. 
GEORGE C. MORGAN, Maryland. 
BENJAMIN GWYNN, Maryland. 
BENJAMIN YOUNG. Maryland. 
PEREGRINES BUCKING BAM. 
JaMES FITTON, Virginia. 
ALEXANDER CAMPAU, Michigan. 
SHERIDAN MILES, Maryland. 
JOHN KENNY, Virginia. 
WILLIAM D. WYNN, Georgia. 
HENRY B. THOMPSON, Georgia. 
JOSEPH L. BRENT, Louisiana. 
JOHN B. BROOKE, Jr., Maryland. 
G. De LANAUDIERE, Canada. 
MARTIN KENNEDY, Louisiana. 
ALONZO B. DUFOUR, Georgia. 



BENJAMIN E. WHALAN, Alabama. 
P. P. DRAIN, District Columbia. 
HENRY D. POWER, Dist. Columbia. 
ALCIDE P. BUARD, Louisiana. 
HENRY WILLIAMSON, Georgia. 
MR. KUITON, Canada. 
FELIX METOYER, Louisiana. 
JAMES MASICOTT, Louisiana. 
FRANCIS H. HALL, Maryland. 
NICHOLAS SNOWDEN, Maryland. 
JOHN SEMMES, Mississippi. 
RICHARDSON DAVIS, Virginia. 
J. W. POINDEXTBR, Virginia. 
ALBERT ERSKINE, Alabama. 
POLVrCARPE FORTIER, Louisiana, 
HENRY A. WADE, Pennsylvania. 
GEORGE LOYALL, Virginia. 
WILLIAM H. BYRD, Virginia. 
JULIEN CUMMIN, Georgia. 
CLEMENT COX, District Columbia. 
JOSEPH YOUNG, District Columbia. 
ALFRED J. HIGGINS, Virginia. 
WILLIAM MOUTON, Louisiana. 
WILLIAM H. MOORE, Mississippi. 
JAMES A. TILLMAN, Alabama. 
THOMAS M. JENKINS, Maryland. 
HENRY M. BEDFORD, New York. 
RICHARD WELSH, Maryland. 
HENRY M. BEDFORD, New York. 
RICHARD WELSH, Maryland. 
HERMOGENE A. DUFRENE, Louisiana. 
JOHN S. RUDD, Virginia. 
JOHN B. WILLS. 

WILLIAM WIRT TLLLEY, Dist. Col. 
ZENON FREIRE, Chili, S. A. 
MANUEL F. ALDUNATE, S. A. 
PREDERICO ALBUNATE, S. A. 
HENRY B. TRICOU, Louisiana. 
WILLIAM F. GASTON, North Carolina. 
C. J. MEUX, Louisiana. 
JOHN McMANUS, Maryland. 
ALFRED S. JAMES, Alabama. 
WILLIAM E. RICHARD, Alabama. 
DAVID M. CLARK, South Carolina. 
PAUL BRES, Louisiana. 
JAMBS E. S. HARVEY, Maryland. 



n 



SUB-aKADUATES-Conlinvied. 



THOMAS M. BLOUNT, Florida. 

JAMES McSHANE, Ireland. 

A. S. GARNETT. 

DOM. GARDINER. 

J. H. S. HAMILTON. 

J. W. PRESCOTT. 

S. B. SMITH. 

U. WOOTON, Maryland. 

EDWARD SOOTT. 

L. A. GRENEAUX, Louielana. 

C. E. GRENEAUX, Jr., Louisiana. 

JOHN P. BOWLING, Maryland. 

W. H. BLANDFORD, Maryland. 

JAMES R. RANDALL. 

OTIS KEIHOLTZ. 

GEORGE C. HUBBARD. 

J. J. GARNETT, Virginia. 

LEOPOLD J. SMITH, Louisiana. 

CHARLES BENOIST, Louisiana. 

ARISTIDE L. AUBERT, Alabama. 

CONSTANT SMITH, Dsstrict Columbia. 

JOHN E. YOUNG, Maryland. 

A. H. HUGUET. Louisiana. 

W. C. WALSH. 

E. L. DECHAPELLES, Louisiana. 
W. J. CLARKE, Georgia. 
WILLIAM F. KELLEY, Pennsylvania. 

F. A. PRICE, Georgia. 

E. BOYD FAULKNER, Virsinia. • 
C. E. O'SULLIVAN, New York. 
JOSEPH P. ORME, District Columbia. 
HENRY S. FOOTE, California. 
HENRY CRUZAT, Louisiana. 
MADISON R. GRIGSBY, Mississippi. 
THEODORE J. DIMITRY, Louisiana. 



JAMES L. O'BYRNE, Georgia. 
WILLIAM HODGES, Mississippi. 
WILLIAM N. ROACH, District Columbia. 
ALFRED G. THOMSON, Louisiana. 
DOMINGO FORO, Chili. 
Rev. THOMAS F. MULLEDY, Virginia. 
Rev. JAMES RYDER, ex-President of 

Georg etown College. 
Dr. MAURICE A. POWER, New York. 
Dr. ROBERT A. DURKEE, Maryland. 
ROBERT BARRY, District Columbia. 
Dr. P. WARFIELD, District Columbia. 
Hon. T. D'AZAMBUJA, Portugal. 
McCLINTOCK YOUNG, District Columbia. 
HUGH McLaughlin, Maryland. 
J. E. DOOLY, Va. 
T. B. FENALL, N. C. 
C. T. CL08S, Nebraska. 
EUGENE F. HILL, Md. 
JOHN L. CHADWICK, N. Y. 
E. C. JOHiVSON, Md. 
A. N. HIRST, Pa. 

VINCENT A.UDINO MaNERO, Porto Rico. 
J. MATTHEWS, Cuba. 
J. C. NORMEIL, Kansas. 
NORMAN F. HILL, Md. 
W. H. LEE, Md. 

A. S. MATTHIAS, Md. 
C. F. NALLY, D. C. 
JOE ORNDORF, Md. 

B. C. SPRINGFIELD, Tenn. 
JOHN F. LEE, Md. 

JOSE E. LANAS, Peru. 
W. P. RUDOLPH, Mo. 



HONORAKY MEMBERS. 

Hon. WILLIAM GASTON North Carolina. THEODORE JENKINS, Maryland. 

JOHN O'SULLIVAN, District Columbia. JAMES HOBAN, District Columbia. 

Rev. PHILIP A. SACCHI, Georgetown Col- Z. COLLINS LEE, Maryland. 

lege, District Columbia. Rev. OLIVER JENKINS, Maryland. 

WILLIAM LAGGETT, New York. Rev. P. CORRY, Maryland. 

U. C. YOUNG, Maryland. DONALD McLEOD, District Columbia. 

JOHN SULLIVAN, District Columbia. JOHN E. DEVLIN, New York. 



n 



HONORARY MEMBERS-Continned. 



Hon. JOHN M. S. CAUSIN, Maryland. 
Hon. J. LEEDS KEER, Maryland. 
WILLIAM A. STOKES, Pennsylvania. 
Col. W. J. BLAKISTON, Maryland. 
Hon. R. J. WALKER, ex-Secretary of tbe 

Treasury, Mississippi. 
Hon. H. G. S. KEY, Maryland. 
J. M. GILLIS, U. S. N., District, Columbia. 
Hon. WILLIAM COST JOHNSON, Md. 
Hon. J. P. KENNEDY, Maryland. 



MILLARD FILLMORE, ex-President U. S. 
Hon. RUFUS KING, Alabama. 
Rev. Mr. FINOTT, Boston. 
Hou. W. W. PAYNE, Virginia. 
Prof. NOBLE YOUNG, M. D., Dist. Col. 
Prof. C. H. LIEBERMAN, M. D., Dist. Col. 
Prof. P. HOWARD, M. D., District Columbia. 
Prof. J. ELLIOT, M. D., District Columbia. 
Dr. J. M. AUSTIN, District Columbia. 
Prof. J. W. H. LOVE JOY, M. D., D. C. 



O. A. BROWNSON, LL. D., Massachusetts. Prof. S. W. EVERETT, M. D., Dist. Col. 



JOHN ADDISON, California. 
GEORGE W. PARKE CUSTIS, Virginia. 
JOSEPH H. CLARKE, Maryland. 
WILLIAM G. READ, LL. D., Maryland. 
W. W. SEATON, ex-Mayor Wasbington. 
JULES DERILLE, Gaudaloupe. 
WILLIAM McDERMOTT, Dist. Columbia. 
HENRY MAY, Baltimore. 
Most Rev. JOHN HUGHES, Archbisbop of 
New York. 

Rev. JOHN McCaffrey, d. d. 

Lieut. MAURY, U. S. N., Dist. Columbia. 
Prof. GRAFTON TYLER, M. D., Dist. Col, 
Prof. W. A. AIKEN, M. D., LL. D., Mary- 
land. 
Gen. DUFF GREEN, District Columbia. 
Col. CHARLES A. MAY, U. S. A. 
Prof. J. F. MAY, M. D., District Columbia. 
Hou. MORRIS LONGSTRETH, Penn. 
JOHN F. ENNIS, District Columbia. 
S. HUMES PORTER, District Columbia. 
PERRY E. BROCCHUS, Alabama. 
RICHARD CRAWFORD, Dist. Columbia. 
Dr. HENRY A. FORD, Maryland. 
D. JAMES MORGAN, District Columbia. 
Prof. JOSHUA RILEY, M. D., Dist. Col. 
PETER C. HOWLE, District Columbia. 
Dr. EUSEBIUS JONES, New York. 
ALPHONSE BARBOT, U. S. N., D. C. 
ROBERT OULD, District Columbia. 
RICHARD LAY, District Columbia. 



Rev. B. A. MAGUIRE, President of George- 
town College. 

Rev. D. LYNCH, Georgetown College. 

Dr. W. T. C. Du HAMEL, District Columbia 

EDWARD S. McNERHANY, S. J., George- 
town College. 

Hon. R. McClelland, secretary of Int. 

Hon. JAS. CAMPBELL, Postmaster Gene- 
ral. 

Hon. B. J. SEMJMES, M. D., Prince George's 
County, Maryland. 

Rev. Prof. J. CURLEY, S. J., Georgetown 
College. 

Hon. THOMAS H. BENTON, Mo. 

Rev. J. P. DONELAN, Prince George's Co., 
Maryland. 

Honorable E. C. CABELL, Florida. 

Rev. J. R. PLUNKET, Martinsburg, Va. 

Hon. WILLIAM PRESTON, Kentucky. 

Rev. T. J. O'TOOLE, D. D., Washington, 
D. C. 

Hon. ROBERT J. BRENT, Baltimore, Md. 

Rev. GEORGE C. CARROLL, S. J., Ohio. 

Hon. WILLIAM D. MERRICK, Maryland. 

ALEXANDER GARESCHE, Missouri. 

J. H. MADIGAN. 

Rev. A. McMULLIN. 

Rev. JOHN FORCE. 

Dr. J. M. SNYDER. 

J. McSHERRY. 

THEODORE J. TALBOT. 



Rev. THOMAS B. FOLEY, Dist. Columbia. Hon. CHARLES GAYARRE, Louisiana. 
Hon. E. L. LOWE, LL. D., Governor of Mary- R. J. BOWIE. 

land. Hon. FRANKLIN PIERUE, ex-Pres. U. S, 

ZACHARY TAYLOR, ex- President U. S. YATES WALSH. 



n 



HONORARY MEMBERS-Continiaed. 



Kev. J. M. AEDIA. 

C. E. GRENAUX, Sr., Louieiana. 

Eev. CHARLES KING. 

Rev. FRANCIS BOYLE. 

Judge P. A. ROST, Louisiana. 

CHARLES W. RUSSELL. 

Dr. J. G. GOULLSTON. 

Rev. LEONARD NOTA. 

Rev. BENEDICT SESTINI. 

G. MORRIS, California. 

W. H. HOYT. 

Prof. G. C. SCHAEFFER, M. D. 

Rev. EDWARD H. WELCH, S. J. 

Rev. A. VAN DEN HEUYEL, S. J. 

Rev. PATRICK DUDDY, S. J. 

Rev. EDMUND YOUNG, S. J. 

Rev. JOHN WOOLTZ, S. J. 

MICHAEL DRACO DIMITRY, Louisiana. 

CHAS. M. GRIMM, Maryland. 

Rev. E. A. KNIGHT. 

Dr. ANTICELLE, District Columbia. 

Right Rev. BISHOP O' CONOR, Penn. 

Rev. JOS. O'CALLAGHAN, President of 

Loyola College, Baltimore. 
Rev. ROBERT FULTON. 
C. C. MAGRUDER, Maryland. 
JESUS ESCOBAR, Mexico. 
C. W. HOFFMAN, Maryland. 



T. B. KEYES, Maryland. 

JOHN L. SUMNER, S. J., Maryland. 

HENRY MAJOR, Pennsylvania. 

C. CARVaLLO, Pennsylvania. 

SIGNIOR ASTABURUAGA, Chili. 

SIGNIOR ]VLa.THIAS ROMERO. Mexico. 

WILLIAM SUMNER, S. J., Maryland. 

Rev. ALOYSIUS JANELICK. Austria. 

Prof. VARSr, Italy. 

Rev. JOS. O'HAGAN, S. J., Georgetown 

College. 
Rev. J. B. MULLALY, S. J., Georgetown 

Collesre. 
Dr. F. W. TONER, District Colombia. 
W. B. NICODEMUS, Esq., Virginia. 
Hon. S. T. RANDAL, Pennsylvania. 
Hon. D. W. VOORHLES, la. 
Rev. STEPHEN KELLY, S. J., D. C. 
Hon. O. W. BROWNNING, Illinois. 
Gen. THOS. EWING, Kansas. 
EDWARD W. BELT, Esq., Maryland. 
Gen. ROBERT E. LEE, Virginia. 
Dr. THOMAS MILLER, District Columbia. 
Prof. NOBLE S. HOFFER, Dist. Columbia. 
Prof. CHAS. BUNTING, Maryland. 
JOHN F. CALLAN, Esq., Dist. Columbia. 
Gen. ROBERT WILLIAMS, Dist. Columbia. 
Maj. JOHN F. LEE, Maryland. 



DANIEL FORD, S. J., Georgetown College. Prof. JULIUS SOPER, District Columbia. 
GEORGE J. STRONG, S. J., Georgetown Gen. HORACE PORTER, U. S. A. 

College. WILLIAM M. HILL, Maryland. 

JOS. H, KING, S. J., Georgetown College. Gen. BRADLEY T. JOHNSON, Virginia. 



